


Those Gentle Slopes that Lead to Hell

by Severus_divides_into_H



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Book of Circus, Canon - Anime, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Kuroshitsuji II | Black Butler II, Kuroshitsuji: Book of Murder, Kuroshitsuji: Book of the Atlantic, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Sebastian, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Protective Sebastian, S1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 95,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severus_divides_into_H/pseuds/Severus_divides_into_H
Summary: Proud. Unique. Determined. From the second Sebastian sensed Ciel Phantomhive’s soul, he realised their contract would be different. He was ready for it.And so he waits. He hungers. He is getting obsessed. He will do anything to devour this soul, and the fragile attachment to the boy that has begun to spread its icy fingers in him will not stop him.He thinks.





	1. The Last of Illusions, Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based on *anime only* and will reflect the events that happened prior, during, and after the series, with original arcs intertwined with canon ones. I tend to regard all existing episodes as the components of one wholesome story, so the events will follow such chronological order: S1, episodes 1-16; Book of Circus; Book of Murder; Book of Atlantic; S1, episodes 17-24; S2. OVAs will also be explored, with ‘Ciel in Wonderland’ split between the end of S1 and the end of S2.
> 
> Regarding Sebastian/Ciel: the explicitly romantic things will take place after S2, after Ciel becomes somewhat older, but the story is tagged as pre-slash for a reason.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated!

The coils of darkness blossomed beneath Ciel’s closed eyelids, dancing and twirling, taking various shapes. Frowning in annoyance, he opened his eyes, saw Sebastian watching him curiously, and closed them again, wishing to avoid any possibility of conversation.

It was better to see the flashes of imaginary darkness rather than to stare in the face of a real one.

They were going home after the tiresome, pompous ceremony that the Queen had organised to celebrate his return. Now, he was officially an Earl, the head of Phantomhive family. As Sebastian had said, the status, the title, the fortune — it all belonged to him now, along with a fiancée that Ciel hoped to avoid in the nearest future. He had too many problems to deal with as it was, and one of them was sitting across him, burning holes in him with his stare.

Sebastian was something Ciel couldn’t properly define. A demon? A servant? A teacher? Yes, he was definitely supposed to be all of the above, but there were also other definitions that Ciel had begun to apply to him, definitions that, in retrospective, seemed to have been founded on cringe-worthy, childish illusions.

Ciel tried to find other explanations for what he’d witnessed today, as they had been walking along that empty corridor, but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.

He knew what he saw. When he turned abruptly, confident words on his tongue, he noticed a flicker of darkness coming from Sebastian. It lasted for no more than a second, but Ciel could swear it was there. He could also swear that he saw the claws of Sebastian’s true form, a feral half-grin, half-snarl on his face — but it all disappeared so quickly that at first, Ciel decided he’d imagined it. Now, though, the more he thought about it, the more details he recalled and the tenser he became.

If he was right, then Sebastian had been one step from breaking their contract and eating his soul right there, in the Queen’s palace. After all the time they had spent together. After everything.

Ciel didn’t want to believe it. But he had to find out for sure.

When their carriage stopped and Ciel stepped outside, he decided that it was pointless to hesitate.

He was a Phantomhive. He would never let doubts distract him.

“Sebastian,” Ciel said, and red eyes immediately focused on him.

“Yes, Master?”

“If I were to agree to the suggestion you’ve made today, in the palace, what would you do?”  

A small, strange smile appeared on Sebastian’s lips. He didn’t say anything, though, and Ciel frowned.

“Tell me. Right now. This is an order!” he snapped.   

“As you wish,” Sebastian bowed slightly, but Ciel could see that his smile was mocking.  “I would consider it a breach of contract and I would claim your soul as mine.”

Ciel suspected it, after what he’d seen, but the words still shocked him. Flinching, he made a step back before he could stop himself, feeling absurdly, strangely wounded. His eyes started to sting, so he straightened and raised his chin, measuring Sebastian with what he hoped would pass for an indifferent look.

“Make a special dinner for tonight,” he said coldly. “At least five courses. I will be in my study room.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian replied, and Ciel’s skin crawled at the mockery he could hear in his voice. Pressing his lips tightly together, he moved toward the house, making sure to keep his pace unhurried and to hold himself with as much dignity as he could master at this moment.

When he finally got to the study room, he closed the door and leaned against it, staring at the window unseeingly. Now, when he was safe from all ridiculing, dissecting attention, his eyes began to brim with tears again, and Ciel bit his lower lip so hard he tasted blood in attempt to collect himself.

He was a fool. A naïve idiot.

A child.

He knew what Sebastian was. He knew from the beginning. Demons weren’t capable of loyalty or attachment — they were an empty, soulless shell, only interested in the meal they could acquire for themselves.

But somewhere during these months, Ciel seemed to have forgotten about it. Or maybe, despite his knowledge, he never managed to believe in it entirely — not until today.

Because he had trusted Sebastian. From the very first moments of making a contract with him, _before_ making a contract with him, he could tell that Sebastian had decency despite being a demon. He had honestly warned him about the consequences of his decision and he began to fulfil his responsibilities right from the start. He didn’t just kill those who tortured Ciel — he made them suffer. He made them kneel and beg for their pathetic lives. Staring at the bleeding, moaning masses with wide eyes, Ciel felt avenged. Protected. Later, when thinking of the name for his new butler, Ciel had chosen ‘Sebastian’ because he planned to use the demon as his guard dog… and because he felt safe with him. Before _that_ day, before the life he had lived came to an end, he used to turn to his dog Sebastian every time he felt scared or worried — whenever he needed comfort yet didn’t want to disturb his parents.

From the first night, when Sebastian had brought hot milk to him, Ciel saw more than an ally in him. He saw a caretaker. He remembered about their contract and he was going to give Sebastian his soul when his revenge was complete, but… it seemed so far away right now. There were numerous more important things they had to accomplish meanwhile – such as becoming an actual Earl and a butler because at that point, they were only laughable copies. The fact that they had to learn together soothed Ciel’s stinging pride, and soon, he started to regard Sebastian as the closest thing to a friend he had.  

It was strange, how bad Sebastian was at being a butler. Seemed like he had never had to perform this particular duty before — and to be honest, it looked like Sebastian hadn’t even visited the human world for quite a while. Otherwise, how could he be so terrible at such basic things as cooking and cleaning? How could he prepare all those fatty, spicy meals and think that the stomach of someone Ciel’s age would be able to handle it?

In other circumstances, Ciel would have been annoyed at how useless his servant was, but here, he was almost glad.

He felt less lonely this way.

He and Sebastian worked hard together, and all the challenges they were persistently overcoming only strengthened Ciel’s perception of Sebastian as of something other than demon.

When Ciel tasted the liquid that Sebastian called tea and calmly poured it onto his hands as punishment, he didn’t see him as some terrifying being that he should be wary of. He saw a servant who made a mistake and who had to do better next time.

When Sebastian determined the number of strikes Ciel would get for mistakes in his studies and then delivered them, steadily and mercilessly, Ciel saw him as a teacher. When Sebastian gave him advice as to how to shoot and how to ride a horse, he saw him as a mentor. At night, seeing how Sebastian dealt with the intruders, be that marauders, thieves, or someone’s hired fists, Ciel saw him as a protector, even if he was annoyed by the racket.

He first saw him as someone close to a friend when he woke up from another nightmare, gasping and shaking from terror, and Sebastian was there. He wasn’t genuinely worried for him — Ciel could see it. His eyes and his voice were indifferent when he asked if Ciel was all right, and he readily turned to leave when Ciel recoiled from his touch, on the verge of desperate panic. Even when Ciel swallowed his pride and asked him to stay, the look in Sebastian’s eyes didn’t change — it remained calm and unmoving, as if he couldn’t care less. He failed to do even something as trivial as this normally — going to the window, he froze there like a statue, and no matter how much Ciel wanted to ask him to sit next to him, he would sooner die than say it aloud.

And yet… seeing Sebastian in his room, guarding him from his fears, made Ciel feel warm. This feeling grew stronger as he heard what he identified as pride in Sebastian’s voice and saw his grins when Ciel did something right, and it made him believe that he wasn’t the only person feeling it. He clung to this fragile thread of connection between them, letting it fill the emptiness he had been feeling for what seemed like ages, and he imagined it growing gradually every day.

All the progress they achieved together, the way they praised and congratulated each other, wordlessly or otherwise, meant something. It _had_ to mean something. Right?

But then there was this visit to the Queen, and Ciel’s illusions vanished like smoke.

Protector? Friend? What a joke! Earls didn’t become friends with butlers, especially when these butlers were also demons.

And Sebastian _was_ a demon. How humiliatingly embarrassing it was of Ciel to ever consider him as something else, something more.

Never again.

Numbly, Ciel touched his face and was content to realize that no tears fell. He was not a cry-baby, and no demon would reduce him, a Phantomhive, to tears.

Anger, hurt, and bitterness remained, though, and no matter how hard he tried, Ciel couldn’t get rid of them.

That disgusting creature. Maybe it wasn’t the demon’s fault for being what it was — it was Ciel who had foolishly imagined depth where there was none, but how could Sebastian try to provoke him into breaking the contract? He had deliberately asked his question in a way that seemed harmless. Ciel hadn’t even suspected anything until he analysed his memories carefully.

What pathetic, revolting treachery.

Sebastian had to be punished.

Clenching his fists hard enough to hurt, Ciel walked out of his study room, trying to move as quietly as he could. Sebastian had to be busy in the kitchen — he still wasn’t used to cooking manually, step by step, and with Ciel’s order, it had to him ages to get the dinner done.

Ciel would have smiled at the thought of how annoyed and frustrated Sebastian must feel right now, but his heart was too heavy to allow him any sort of amusement. When he stepped outside, the sky had already darkened. It wasn’t cold, but when the strong wind crashed into him, Ciel shivered, wrapping his hands around his middle miserably.

The frown was still wrinkling his forehead as he moved toward the cliff, leaving the house behind. The lights there were shining brightly, making it seem as if every room had a host that was going to return at any moment.

But they wouldn’t. And if Sebastian was indeed a terrible butler, then Ciel risked not returning home as well.

He stopped at the cliff, glancing at what was beneath it, trying to calculate how much distance separated him from the bottom. Enough to kill him if he fell all the way down, but also enough to give Sebastian an opportunity to catch him before Ciel reached his death.

Grimly, Ciel looked at the shape of the house, then stared at the bottom of the cliff once again. Then, forcing himself to swallow down the sudden flare of fear, he stepped into nothingness.

The cold wind burned his face. He didn’t scream, even though he wanted to, biting through his already torn lip to keep his terror inside. The ground was approaching rapidly and Ciel closed his eyes in defeat — and then strong hands caught him and the air roared in his ears. He blinked, his mind confused at the sudden change, and a second later, he was already standing on the solid ground, back on the top of the cliff, with Sebastian staring at him unblinkingly.

‘ _He really does move at lightning speed_ ,’ Ciel thought, taking a deep, slow breath. His limbs were shaking, so he tried to hide his hands behind his back to mask it before he realised how stupid he must look.

“Why on earth would you do something like that?” Sebastian wondered. He leaned closer, examining Ciel with his red eyes, and the genuine curiosity there tugged sharply at something in Ciel’s chest.

“I was checking whether you are worthy of consuming my soul,” he said coldly, and saw how Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise, how he leaned even closer and inhaled deeply, as if trying to understand his mind through his smell. The burning curiosity that was practically emanating from him was one of the most honest feelings Ciel had sensed within Sebastian. However, looking closer at him, he could recognise something more than just curiosity. There was an actual interest there. The intrigued expression that made Sebastian’s bland face suddenly look alive.

Something clicked in Ciel’s mind then, and he nearly gasped from revelation.

So that’s what it was. Maybe all demons were like this, or maybe Ciel had lucked out and gotten himself an incredibly picky one, but just drawing a contract wasn’t enough for Sebastian. When Ciel was taking pleasure from the time they spent together, Sebastian was getting bored. He wanted a thrill; he wanted a game. By provoking Ciel at the palace, he had been checking whether Ciel deserved his continued loyalty and his service, however artificial they were. He had been testing whether Ciel’s soul was worthy of being cultivated and consumed as a luxurious meal, or if all it deserved was to serve as a quick snack and then fade into oblivion.

Sebastian wanted a worthy Master. Someone he couldn’t predict or understand easily.

Fortunately for him, Ciel was more than prepared to provide him with this. He would ensure that Sebastian had the worst headache a demon could ever get — if they could even get one.

It didn’t lessen the acidic taste of betrayal on his tongue, but at least now, Ciel understood.

And he wasn’t going to forget about it.

Ciel rose to his toes, and when Sebastian continued to watch him curiously, he slapped him on the face as hard as he could, making sure that his rings connected with the bone.

Watching how Sebastian’s jaw dropped from sheer astonishment filled his blood with thick, dark pleasure.

“This is for acting in such an embarrassing manner today,” Ciel uttered lowly, narrowing his eyes when Sebastian just gaped at him, still looking shocked. “Do you take me for a fool? That little provocation of yours didn’t go unnoticed. I will let it slide, but only this once. Do you understand me, Sebastian? If you ever try to insult me by such petty, dishonourable acts again, _I_ will be the one to consider it a breach of contract. You are my servant. You are supposed to protect me — and not just physically. You have no right to try and push me into making a mistake that would benefit you. If you want my soul, then earn it instead of trying to cheat!”

For a while, Sebastian continued to stand like a statue, but slowly, the look of amazement on his face started to change. When he bowed, his eyes were glistening with interest so intense that even Ciel was taken aback by it.

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian murmured, and this time, there were no mocking notes in his voice.

Bitterly satisfied, Ciel turned away from him and moved back to the house, feeling hopelessly, endlessly tired. Sebastian disappeared in the kitchen, probably worried about the dinner, and Ciel used those moments to collapse into his armchair and close his eyes, hoping to let his mind rest. To his anger, though, it refused to be subdued, and instead proceeded to shove the images of Sebastian in front of him, reminding him about the numerous small moments they had shared.

The way he and Sebastian argued about what books Ciel should read, with Sebastian insisting on the piece written more than a hundred years ago and Ciel claiming that it was too old and thus irrelevant for their time.

The way Sebastian helped him get dressed, both of them utterly confused by the various buttons and laces. Ciel remembered how annoyed Sebastian started to appear after the third failed attempt to dress him properly, and how he apologised and disappeared for an hour before coming back and doing everything flawlessly. Ciel had asked where he could possibly manage to learn all the intricacies of dressing in less than sixty minutes, but Sebastian refused to answer, looking so sour as if he had bitten into a lemon.

The way Sebastian seemed to channel Ciel’s anxiety when the Queen’s letter arrived, how he fussed over Ciel more than usual to make sure he looked perfect, how he watched him in that huge, cold throne room filled with people Ciel didn’t know. Sebastian and his aunt were the only ones he recognised, but it was Sebastian who Ciel kept staring at because it was Sebastian who brought him comfort, even when he was just standing motionlessly. Sebastian watched him back, and Ciel thought… hoped… that the worry he had noticed in his eyes was genuine and that he hadn’t imagined it.

Lies. All lies. And even worse — not lies, but illusions. Illusions that Ciel himself had constructed and which were all shattering now, hurting him so much that he wanted to cry, still.

He held on. Sebastian served the dinner and Ciel had even managed to eat something, even though he did not feel any taste. Throughout the meal, he could feel Sebastian’s gaze on him, but for now, Ciel chose to ignore it.

He had never been so relieved to go to bed as in this night. Sebastian, probably sensing Ciel’s relief and having no idea what was causing it, opened his mouth to ask, but Ciel interrupted him sharply and barked, “Get out.”

A small frown touched Sebastian’s forehead, but it smoothed out almost instantly. Giving one last bow, Sebastian left, and Ciel was finally, blissfully alone. His consciousness, as if understanding this, pushed the tears back to the surface, and Ciel gritted his teeth, furious with himself.

He hadn’t cried when he learned that his parents died. He hadn’t cried when he saw their graves, and he would surely not cry because of some demon!

But hot, suffocating tears refused to be restrained this time, and the first and then the second ones burned Ciel’s cheeks, making a quiet, pained sound escape him. He immediately closed his mouth with his hands, terrified that Sebastian could hear, but when minutes passed and no one came in, Ciel hid his face in his pillow, choking down all sounds but letting the tears fall.

He would grieve tonight. Not for the demon — that being was not worthy of Ciel’s pain, but for the last form of connection Ciel thought he had left. With it gone, he was alone, and now he knew he would stay alone till the very end.  

So yes, he would grieve tonight, but tomorrow… he would wake up stronger.

And he would never allow himself such disgusting weakness again.   


	2. From Weakness to Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback - I'm so happy you liked the start! This chapter has gotten too long, but there was a lot to explore. Hope you'll enjoy it as well :)

The second letter from the Queen came a week after the ceremony, and Ciel stared at the text in confusion, unsure if he understood everything correctly. Feeling lost, he raised his eyes and found Sebastian’s questioning stare.

“Is everything all right, Young Master?” Sebastian asked, and Ciel shrugged, looking at the letter again.

“Yes. It is just…” he hesitated, studying the curved letters once again. “There has been a series of murders. Apparently, the Queen wants me to participate in the investigation.”

“What do you find so startling about it?” Sebastian raised his eyebrow in the expression of polite interest that Ciel started to find incredibly annoying. “From what you told me, I understand that the members of your family have served as the Queen’s Watchdogs for decades. What a distasteful byname,” he added, and Ciel rolled his eyes, annoyed even more.

“No one asked for your opinion,” he grumbled. “And yes, the Phantomhives have always been known as the Queen’s Watchdogs. But my age… What I mean is—” Ciel fell silent when Sebastian just continued to look at him blandly, as if he had no idea what Ciel could be getting at.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Ciel hid the letter and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

The damned demon. He probably didn’t understand that being twenty and controlling the underworld differed significantly from being eleven and doing the same. Ciel had thought that the Queen must surely be aware of it, so he found the letter shocking — unpleasantly so.

However, complaining about it aloud would imply that Ciel considered himself a child, and he would never allow himself to even hint at something like that, no matter what.

He could worry about his inexperience in his thoughts. The most important thing now was to hide his anxiety and insecurity from Sebastian.

Sebastian couldn’t see him as weak, or at least weaker than Ciel had already shown himself as. If he lost all respect for him, all his interest…

“Make me a chocolate cake,” Ciel commanded. “And prepare a carriage. We will be leaving in two — no, three hours. Tanaka is going to return from the hospital in two weeks and I would like to be done with this case by that time.”

“Certainly,” bowing, Sebastian disappeared, and Ciel leaned against his armchair, taking a deep breath.

 _Make me a cake. Prepare the bath. Clean up this room_. _Get rid of the visitors_. For this last week, their conversations were based on this only — Ciel gave the most crucial orders and refused to summon Sebastian for anything else, even though a part of him was withering from strange, repugnant feeling of heartache every time he sent Sebastian away.   

No prolonged contact. No actual conversations. No closeness. Ciel couldn’t always maintain such new routine — there were alarming holes in the icy wall he was so carefully constructing, but he hoped… no, he _knew_ that with time, there would be no holes left. With time, he would look at Sebastian and marvel at how he could ever see him as something more than a demonic pawn.

If only Sebastian wasn’t making things so much more difficult… it seemed like the colder Ciel became, the more closeness Sebastian craved. Now, unless Ciel gave him an order, Sebastian chose to stay in the room with him, sometimes overly close, and whenever Ciel barked at him to move away, all he got in response was a slow, intrigued smile. Sebastian did follow his orders, but he moved back in his proximity whenever he could, and it was driving Ciel crazy.

Did this demon find coldness alluring? He couldn’t care about the distance Ciel was trying to put between them, so the only other explanation was that Sebastian saw right through him, and that he was deliberately trying to make Ciel’s life difficult. Everything was a game to this creature.

And now this letter… Ciel had no idea how to even approach the murder case. He wasn’t an investigator — his fath… his predecessor had never shared any details of his work with him, so Ciel only knew the basics. According to the letter, four people had been found dead, poisoned by something known as Abrus precatorius. Ciel supposed it was some kind of plant, but he wasn’t sure, and with the distance that he had been trying to put in between himself and Sebastian, he was hesitant as to whether he should ask his demon anything.

Four poisoned people.

Where to start?  

When Sebastian brought him his chocolate cake, Ciel still hadn’t come up with anything. He ate his dessert slowly, stopping after every bite to recall the tiniest bits of information he had heard from his predecessor. There had to be some connections left, people who would agree to work with him. If the fact that he was eleven didn’t matter to the Queen, then it wouldn’t matter to these people, too — and if it did, Ciel would make sure to change their minds quickly.

There was something that was stopping him from enjoying his cake properly. Something other than his thoughts.

Looking up, Ciel frowned, seeing that Sebastian was still standing in his study room, watching him attentively.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“You haven’t given me any order, so I decided to stay with you. Is the dessert to your liking?”

“It is all right,” Ciel put away his fork, curious at how Sebastian frowned at the sight of it, as if he found Ciel not finishing what he’d cooked offensive.

At times, Sebastian’s strange desire to achieve perfection in everything he was doing was funny. Ciel would have let himself smile before, but not now, when the memory of Sebastian’s treachery was still so fresh in his mind.

The darkness emanating from Sebastian as he reached to touch him… his clawed hand that sought to grab him by the shoulder, in one and final touch… knowledge that if Ciel hadn’t turned then, he would be dead right now — soulless, non-existent, condemned to having only darkness as his company because he had no chance to meet those he loved again…

His heart clenched miserably and Ciel lowered his head, staring at the half-eaten cake with fury that it didn’t deserve.

“Take it away,” he said coldly. “I have lost my appetite.”

Sebastian lingered, still frowning, but then he took the plate reluctantly.

“Was something wrong with the cake?” he asked. “It is your favourite. This time, I wanted to enhance the flavour, so I’ve added…”

“I don’t care!” Ciel exploded. “Just take it away, I don’t want it!” 

Sebastian pressed his lips together tightly, in a way that Ciel knew spoke of his desire to grab him like he had done during the first night they spent together. Ciel tensed, wondering if they were going to repeat that experience, but all Sebastian did was disappear with the plate wordlessly.

Ciel relaxed as the tension left his body now that he wasn’t in the danger of being touched. He looked at where the letter was lying, knowing the text written there by heart, and stood up abruptly.

He wasn’t going to wallow in his misery, not again. He wouldn’t let the name of his family, _his_ name, be sullied by his own incompetence.

If the Queen wanted the case solved, then Ciel would do everything in his power to ensure it.

 

 

***

 

 

By the time they arrived to London, Ciel had finally realised what he had to do. As soon as he walked into his London house, he hurried upstairs, to where the office of head of Phantomhive’s family was supposed to be. The majority of correspondence his fath… _predecessor_ had was destroyed, burnt in the fire, but there had to be at least some letters — something that would tell Ciel where to start and whom to contact. 

It took him a while to find what he needed, but when he finally discovered boxes upon boxes of letters, he froze in indecision.

He wouldn’t be able to do it alone. And — well, he didn’t have to, did he? After all, he had a servant who was supposed to assist him in whatever Ciel needed.

“Sebastian,” he called and started to wait. One second. Two. Three. Then the door opened, and Ciel continued without turning, “I need you to help me to sort through the letters. They might be useful in this investigation.”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied politely. “However, first, please try this.”

Ciel finally turned and his eyes widened as he saw Sebastian holding a plate of some chocolate dessert.

Not that he minded, but…

“What is it? I don’t think it is time for dessert,” he said, frowning.

“You didn’t like the cake I prepared back at the mansion, so I decided it is my duty as a butler of the Phantomhive family to offer you an alternative. Please, try it and tell me if you like it better.”

“If I hadn’t liked the cake you’ve made at home, I would have made you eat it,” Ciel drawled, staring at the plate in concentration.

What a ridiculous demon. Ciel had indeed wanted him to be perfect, but who knew Sebastian would get downright obsessed with corresponding to the standards Ciel had set for him?  

He had no desire to eat any kind of dessert now, but it seemed like at least one foolish part of him survived the betrayal because Ciel suddenly found it difficult to deny Sebastian. He imagined him rushing to the kitchen as soon as they arrived, getting everything ready, changing the recipe and preparing a cake that he thought Ciel would like…

Ridiculous. That demon was crazy.

And yet, Ciel nodded and went to sit at the table, waiting for Sebastian to set and serve everything. When it was done, he tried the first fork and closed his eyes briefly in pleasure.

“It is good,” he said shortly, and saw how Sebastian smiled in satisfaction.

This time, Ciel forced himself to finish the entire portion. Sebastian was positively glowing at the sight of it, and hiding an answering smile was getting more and more difficult.

“Clean it all up and come back,” Ciel ordered instead, trying to keep his voice strict. “As I said, I will need your assistance.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian gathered everything in less than a second and disappeared — only to reappear again, still radiating the absurd amount of pleasure.

“Here’s the letter that I received from the Queen,” Ciel offered him an already torn envelope. “Read this.”

Curiosity flashed across Sebastian’s face as he accepted the letter and started to read. When he looked up, Ciel thought his eyes looked redder than usual.

“I have never participated in investigations before,” Sebastian noted. “What is it that you would like to know? Perhaps the origins of the poison Scotland Yard has managed to identify?”

Ciel could have agreed — if not for the condescending notes he recognised in Sebastian’s words. It made him immediately defensive, so he scoffed.

“I will find out about it by myself,” he said confidently. “You, on the other hand, search through these letters and give me those that you think will help me to establish connections with the underworld. My fa— the previous Earl had many useful people at his disposal. I need to know who they are and how to contact them.”

Sebastian lowered his head in a nod, hiding an indulgent smirk, and fury that flooded Ciel in response was so strong that his temples began to throb with it, urging him to step to this demon and to hit him until that smirk disappeared, until an expression of respect and wariness replaced it instead.

Breathing through his nose slowly, Ciel left the room and walked toward the library, hoping that it would have some books about different kinds of poison.

He would stay up all night if he had to but he would find an answer. Without asking Sebastian.

He could do everything by himself.

 

 

***

 

 

As it could be expected, Sebastian had finished his task sooner than Ciel, so in an hour, they were already travelling to someone known as the ‘Undertaker’. He was the most prominent figure mentioned in the letters, even in those that didn’t include him as a writer or an addressee, so Ciel decided they should visit him today, without delays. Now that he started studying the books about poisons, he was getting strangely excited. The thought of being defeated, disappointing the Queen, and embarrassing his family’s name still made his blood go cold with dread, but instead of letting it stop him, Ciel chose to transform everything into a challenging game.

He would find the perpetrator, no matter what. Now that he had an initial course of actions in mind, the task stopped seeming impossible and anticipation was pushing him forward.

When the carriage stopped, Ciel jumped outside before Sebastian could open the door for him. He stormed into the tall building without knocking and stopped at the threshold, his jaw dropping open.

A funeral parlour.

He should have guessed. Who else would call himself an ‘Undertaker’?

Sebastian followed him inside, looking around curiously. The silence in this place was piercing, heavy with something that Ciel couldn’t identify. He cleared his throat, hoping to attract the attention of the owner if he was here, and jumped when someone suddenly grabbed his hand.

A tall man with long grey hair stood next to him, staring at him expressionlessly. Ciel opened his mouth to protest against being grabbed like that when Sebastian snatched him from the stranger’s grip and jumped away, holding him close, his hands wrapped around Ciel’s middle protectively.

A rush of something warm washed over Ciel, sending shivers down his spine, but he shook his head, clearing it from unwanted sensations, before focusing on the owner.

“Are you the Undertaker?” he asked grimly, and a small smile touched the man’s lips.

“Yes, I most surely am. It is a pleasure to meet you again, Earl Phantomhive,” the small smile grew into a wide grin and Ciel shivered once again, this time from a disturbing feeling he couldn’t properly identify.

There was something unnatural in that grin. Something inhuman. 

“‘Again’?” he repeated. “I have never seen you before.”

“Oh, but memory is such a fickle thing,” Undertaker stepped toward them and Ciel felt how Sebastian’s grip around him tightened.

“I would prefer it if you kept your distance from my Master,” Sebastian uttered, his voice, usually amused, now hard with unmistakable threat.

“Oh, and you would be..?” for a second, Ciel saw a flash of the man’s strange greenish eyes, how they flared with malice, before the long bangs covered them again.

“This is my butler,” Ciel said aloud and tapped against Sebastian’s wrist, signifying that he wanted to be let go without attracting attention to it. When Sebastian continued to hold him, Ciel gritted his teeth, annoyed, and then forcibly removed himself from his grip.

Later, they would have to devise a system of signals that only the two of them could understand. It could be useful in the future, during other investigations.

If there would be anything after this. If Ciel didn’t fail.

“I came to you because I know you worked with the previous Earl,” he announced, satisfied with how confident and calm he sounded. “I have taken his place now. The Queen has given me the task of investigating the recent series of murders. Four people have been poisoned with—”

“The Queen, hmm?” Undertaker let out a strange, giggling noise. “She doesn’t lose any time, does she? And neither do you. You are lucky, Earl, at least today, as I have the latest body in this humble home of mine — would you like to see it?”       

“The body?” for a moment, Ciel felt confused. What would he need the body for? And seeing the dead… again… After…

No. He would never let himself be weak — he wouldn’t! Not to mention that he needed to show this bizarre person that he was made from stronger stuff.

“Yes,” Ciel said confidently. “Show me the body.”

“Are you sure?” Undertaker’s grin widened to the point of being crazed, and Ciel glared at him.

“I do not like to repeat my orders,” he warned, and flushed when the insufferable man only laughed at him. However, he walked to the set of big grey boxes and started to open them one by one, muttering something under his breath.

“Usually, I require a certain payment for my services,” he noted. “But today, I will share the information with you for free, Earl. This is indeed your lucky day. Oh! Here he is!”

Without warning, Undertaker pushed the box right at Ciel, and a rotting body that was lying there jumped from the impact. The wave of sickening, unnaturally sweet smell filled Ciel’s nostrils immediately, and when he saw the yellow skin with deep, ugly spots, nausea and a primitive fear spiralled, rising to his throat and blocking his airways.

Gasping, Ciel turned and threw himself at Sebastian without thinking, hiding his face in his stomach and breathing in his calming, soothing scent. A moment passed, and then he realised what he had done.

And he realised something else, too.

Sebastian wasn’t holding him back. He stood motionlessly, cold and indifferent, probably waiting for Ciel to unhand him.

Mortified, Ciel recoiled, feeling an even more humiliating blush travel up his neck. He was still afraid to look at the body, but he was even more afraid to look at Sebastian. Not after this terrible display of weakness.

How could he lower himself to something like this? After everything! Sebastian would despise him again. Who would want a soul of a weakling?

“As I thought,” Undertaker drawled, and even though Ciel felt too ashamed to look at him, he forced himself to raise his head. “A good butler would know that children shouldn’t look at such morbid things. It might traumatise their fragile, unstable minds to the point where they would no longer be themselves.”

Risking a brief glance at Sebastian, Ciel noticed a displeased frown on his face.

Well. Maybe it would distract him from Ciel’s disgrace, at least for a while. Sebastian hated being accused of not fulfilling his duties properly.

But he would remember it. He would remember how Ciel had gotten scared of someone’s dead body like a small, witless child. He would remember that he was the one who Ciel turned — no, clung to, for comfort. He would remember, and he would consider him pitiful.

No!

Clenching his fists, Ciel turned to the body and stepped to it bravely, fighting nausea that instantly welled up in him again.

“Nonsense,” he said carelessly. “I just didn’t expect the body to be in such a bad shape. If he is the latest victim, then he was killed yesterday. The degree of…” Ciel paused, desperately trying to recall the word he needed. “…of decomposition, is starling. It is the end of March, so it’s rather cold outside, and the body had to look fresher.”

“What an insight, Earl!” Undertaker exclaimed, and Ciel narrowed his eyes, attempting to determine whether he was being mocked or not. Carefully, he looked at Sebastian again and relaxed at the sight of the usual curious expression on his face. “However, some people are so distasteful that they continue to be so even after their death… if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t care,” Ciel interrupted him sharply. So far, the visit here had been a waste of time. “Is there any relevant information you can share with me? If you need payment, I can—”

“Oh no, I’ve already told you — no payment is needed today. Not from you, my Earl,” another crazy grin blossomed on Undertaker’s lips. “I am truly so happy to see you… I would celebrate our meeting but I’m afraid there is no time for that today. Do you know the new café that opened three streets from here? It has a very un-delicious name, “The Flowers of Mary”. But it serves the tastiest desserts and many young ladies frequent it. Sometimes their husbands come in, too. Four of them have been found dead after their visits, though, so if you choose to go there, I advise you to be careful.”   

Ciel, who had been feeling more and more annoyed at the irrelevant story, perked up.

“All victims visited the same café?” he clarified, and Undertaker shrugged.

“They are all dead, aren’t they?” he asked. Ciel had no idea how it was related to his question, but he had gotten more than he could hope for.

If what Undertaker had told him was the truth, of course.

“Thank you,” Ciel said mildly. “If the information you provided turns out to be valuable, I will not forget your cooperation. I’ll be seeing you again. Come, Sebastian.”

Without waiting for an answer, Ciel left the parlour, still embarrassed because of his mortifying lapse of judgement, but hopeful.

If all victims had visited one and the same place shortly before their deaths, it could only mean one thing. But…

Ciel stopped abruptly, realising he didn’t know how to proceed. To go to that café today? Or to leave it for tomorrow and write a report to the Queen instead? Did he have to write the reports in the first place, or should he do that only after he finished the case? What about Scotland Yard? They had to have some important files on the victims. Were they aware that Ciel was participating in their investigation, too, or did he have to inform them by himself? And… if Undertaker knew such a crucial piece of information, why did he not share it with anyone?

A strange sensation of someone violating his personal space broke into Ciel’s thoughts. Blinking, he refocused and flinched as he saw Sebastian inches from his face, staring at him with inscrutable expression and… smelling him?

“What the hell are you doing!” Ciel shouted. Sebastian, clearly taken aback, frowned.

“I was merely checking if you are all right,” he said. “You stopped moving without any apparent reason and didn’t answer me when I called you. Your smell is the only other thing that can indicate what feelings you are currently experiencing — not all of them, but it can give me a hint as to what—”

“Never do that again. This is an order!” Ciel hissed, looking around to make sure no one witnessed this humiliating scene. “You cannot just smell people like that. Have you ever even formed contracts with humans, or am I the first unfortunate soul you have encountered?”

 To Ciel’s immense satisfaction, Sebastian’s mask cracked, and for a second, he actually looked affronted.

A new look on him. And tremendously pleasing one at that.

“Indeed I have,” he uttered. “Many times.”

“Then how can you not know that people don’t smell each other like that?!”

“I never had to do that before as my previous Masters—” Sebastian stopped and narrowed his eyes. “In the end, it does not matter. I apologise for inconveniences and I promise to never do that again if it offends you.”

“It offends everyone,” Ciel growled. “I can’t believe you didn’t know about that. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

Sebastian’s lips tightened, filling Ciel with a rush of vindictive satisfaction.

At least he wasn’t the only one acting like an idiot today.

“I believe I owe you another apology,” Sebastian said, and Ciel sent him a suspicious stare.

“What for?” he asked warily.

“For letting you look at that body. The Undertaker was right. Children shouldn’t look at such disturbing things.”

That hateful, ugly blush returned, and Ciel felt his face burn in the way he utterly despised.

“I am not a child!” he protested vehemently. “Not anymore! And I am fine with looking at the bodies. It’s just that one was too… its colour, the spots on it—”

“Ah, I understand it now,” Sebastian smiled innocently, and the already familiar desire to hit him was so strong that Ciel barely stopped himself from acting on it. “You are fine with fresh bodies, but you do not like decomposed or mutilated ones.”

“Mutilated might be fine, too,” Ciel stated haughtily. “I haven’t seen them yet. And least not that well.”

Sebastian pressed his hand to his lips, probably hiding a grin, and Ciel turned away from him in a huff.

Stupid demon. Instead of doing something useful, all he did was try to provoke him.      

“We are going to that café,” Ciel announced. “It’s not late yet, so it must be still open.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian agreed.

They spent the rest of the way in silence.

 

 

***

 

 

The café was small and the choice of desserts was not that big. Ciel studied the menu carefully, trying to guess which of the meals could contain the poison, but without knowing anything about its taste and flavour, there wasn’t much he could do. To be on the safe side, he ordered a chocolate cake that he knew of personally. If there was anything wrong with its taste, he would notice it immediately.

Sebastian seemed distracted, staring somewhere at the wall, but Ciel decided to leave him be for now. Slowly, he watched the small room, taking his time to remember the customers and the smiling girls who carried the trays between the tables.

Nothing seemed amiss. An ordinary place, with a rather boring menu. Sebastian had cooked him more kinds of desserts than were presented here, even though two months ago, he had no idea how to make the basic pie without his demonic tricks.

When his chocolate cake was served, Ciel eyed it critically before tasting a bit. It was bland — as bland as he could expect from a place like this. Sebastian’s chocolate cake was superior to this pale copy.

Sighing, Ciel pushed the plate closer, cut his piece into several large chunks, and began to eat. At this moment, he didn’t care how he looked — he just wanted to finish this tasteless dessert quickly and to go home. It was a mistake to come here today — he had learned more than enough already and he needed time to sort through all pieces of information he received.

When the last chunk disappeared, Ciel sighed in relief and turned to his cup of tea, hoping that it would soothe the strange, unpleasant sensations in his dissatisfied stomach. He looked at Sebastian, wondering if he stopped finding the wall so interesting, and nearly choked when a pair of very red, very displeased eyes stared back at him.

“What?” Ciel blurted out.

“Did you truly enjoy _this_ ,” Sebastian pointed at the empty plate, “more than the chocolate dessert I have made for you?”

Oh no. This again?

“Why would you think that?” Ciel asked, and Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched, signifying that he was even unhappier than Ciel had thought initially.

“You didn’t finish the morning cake and you have spent eleven minutes on consuming the one I’ve made in the afternoon. You finished _this_ one in less than four minutes. What was so special about it? Based on the flavour, both cakes I’ve made smelled stronger and thus better.”

“Stronger doesn’t always mean better,” Ciel replied automatically, wondering if they were actually having this conversation. He couldn’t decide if he found this Sebastian’s obsession funny or annoying. “And I didn’t like this one better. I just wanted to finish it quickly. Let’s go, I’m tired and I don’t think we will learn anything else today.”

Sebastian started to say something, but then his eyes snapped open to the door behind the counter. Ciel followed his gaze and frowned, seeing a middle-aged woman with bright red hair. There was nothing special about her, so he opened his mouth to ask Sebastian, but Sebastian was already bending toward his ear, whispering, “This woman uses the kind of poison that killed those four men whose death we are investigating.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“I know how this specific poison smells like. It clings to her as the second skin, subduing all other smells in this place.”

Ciel looked at the woman again, more intently this time. He still didn’t see anything amiss, but he had no reason to doubt Sebastian — not in this. And if this woman was indeed a killer…

Disappointment crashed into him, followed by irrational anger.

What kind of investigation was this? Undertaker had told him where to look and Sebastian pointed out the culprit. What a boring, unfulfilling experience!

Frustrated, Ciel stormed outside, his fingers itching with desire to hit something — or someone. He headed toward their carriage, but suddenly, the three chocolate desserts he had eaten today swirled up all at once. Letting out a choked sound, Ciel bent over, vomiting right onto the ground.

“My shoes!” he groaned as he saw ugly brown smudges staining his legs. 

“Oh-oh,” Sebastian reached for him with a handkerchief, wiping his face with half-amused, half-annoyed expression. “It seems like I have neglected all of my duties today, Master. From now on, you will not get a dessert until you eat something substantial, and certainly no more than two servings per day.”

“I only asked you for the first one,” Ciel grumbled, grimacing as he looked at his shoes again. Noticing it, Sebastian crouched down with a sigh and began to clean his shoes with another handkerchief, and Ciel could almost hear the thoughts in his head.

A child. A helpless brat. A burden.

When they returned to the London house, Ciel was so upset he felt sick with it. Darkness and misery, his oldest company, devoured each of his half-baked thoughts, not letting him get a grip and make a plan to redeem himself — if not in Sebastian’s eyes, then in his own.

He had been showing himself from his worst side today. He panicked like a child at the funeral parlour; he failed to find a murderer without the demon’s help; he vomited like a drunk who couldn’t hold his alcohol — only in Ciel’s case, it was chocolate.

And Sebastian had witnessed each and every of his humiliations. He might be already regretting forming a contract with him.

“Make me a dinner,” Ciel ordered, trying to keep his voice steady. “And after that, don’t bother me until the morning. I’ll be busy.”

“Of course,” Sebastian answered, lowering his head and not raising his eyes. Probably to hide the mockery in there.

Even more upset, Ciel went to the library, to the books about poisons that were waiting for him there.

They still had to know how and why that woman was poisoning her customers, and this time, Ciel would be the one to establish that. As his studies with Sebastian had shown, he was quite good a critical thinking, so figuring out the motive of the murderer shouldn’t be all that difficult.

 

Ciel spent the next five hours studying the books, seeking any mentions of Abrus precatorius and finding none. The clock had already struck midnight when he finally opened the book titled _Detective Footprints_ , and to his astonishment, the first pages he looked at had the poison he was researching.

The heavy feeling of sleepiness melted into excitement, and Ciel pushed the book closer to his eyes, greedily studying the chapter. It took him a while to read the text and analyse what he was reading, but when he did, he jumped from his place, almost trembling with the need to go and do something. 

 For the poison to gain strength, the seeds had to be cracked and consumed. The cases described in the book mostly revolved around using Abrus precatorius to make a deadly weapon, but now, knowing about its properties, Ciel could easily imagine its effects in other forms as well. There were sketches of those seeds in the book, meaning that he visually knew what he was looking for. All he had to do was search through that woman’s things.

Considering that she was poisoning her customers, she could store the seeds right at the café. In any case, it was worth checking. If he found the seeds there, he could call Scotland Yard officers and the case would be closed, and he would deserve at least a small part of the credit he would receive.

Carefully, Ciel crept out of the library, to where his coat was hanging. He didn’t know how good Sebastian’s hearing was, but as Ciel had asked him not to bother him until morning, he could hope that his walk would remain unnoticed — for some time at least.

A more rational part of him protested, whispering that he was making a mistake. Going by himself in the middle of the night, to a place belonging to a murderer… The whispers got so loud that Ciel stopped, hesitating, but the moment of weakness disappeared as quickly as it came. Snorting at his own cowardice, Ciel went to the kitchen first, looking through the knives he had there.

He would have to acquire a gun for such situations. For now, though, a simple knife would have to suffice.

The streets were empty and the air was so cold that it reminded Ciel of late autumn. Shivering, he wrapped the coat tighter around himself, looking around suspiciously.

He remembered where that café was. It wouldn’t take him long to get there.

Since Sebastian didn’t catch up with him to ask where he was going, Ciel relaxed, hoping that it would stay this way. He didn’t always need Sebastian’s protection. He could do such basic thing as searching through one’s things by himself.

As he’d expected, the café was silent and dark. Ciel stood motionlessly for several minutes, staring through the window and making sure that there was truly no movement inside. Then, he focused on the lock, examining it carefully and trying to figure out how to open it.  

Well. Opening it was out of question. Breaking through the window, on the other hand…

Ciel was in luck — the window wasn’t closed properly. He hastened to slip inside, wincing when it was accompanied by a horrible, cracking noise. Sweet smells engulfed him, and while he would have found them mouth-watering recently, now the mere thought of chocolate and sugar made him nauseous. 

Ciel moved to the kitchen, recalling the number of personnel he had seen here earlier today. Three people, including the murderer. Not much. There couldn’t be an abundance of personal things here, so it was possible that he would be done quickly.

Boxes. Shelves. Strange tubes. Vials. Ciel inspected everything attentively, without taking his gloves off, wanting to minimise any chance of contacting the poison himself. A small vial attracted his attention, one with the word ‘Chili’ written over it.

Chili? In a place that served desserts? Ridiculous.

Licking his lips in anticipation, Ciel opened the vial and nearly crowed in victory.

There they were. Small, reddish seeds, just like on the picture he had seen in his book.

Excellent.

Ciel put the vial back, thinking. As he finally decided and reached out to pocket his finding, something heavy landed on his head, instantly dimming the rest of the lights around him.

 

 

***

 

 

When he came to his senses, his first thought was that he had imagined these two months. There was no Sebastian, no opportunity for revenge — he was still locked in his cage, destined to be touched against his will, slaughtered when his executioners decided it.

Terror crawled up his throat, blinding him through the burst of sheer, overwhelming panic, but the scream that was gathering itself on his tongue remained subdued. Blinking rapidly, Ciel realised he was gagged, sitting on the floor next to several other people — three men and one woman. They were all chained to one another, with Ciel stuck in the middle. 

Now the memories returned, but confusion remained.

If he was dealing with a deranged woman who had decided to keep poisoning her customers, what were all these people doing here? Why were they all chained?

He had to call Sebastian. Ciel still wasn’t sure how the contract between them worked — technically, Sebastian was supposed to find him anywhere, but could he do that if Ciel failed to say his name? Could he sense him when Ciel was unconscious, or did he feel him only when he was in immediate danger?

Ciel jerked his hands, trying to free himself from the stinking piece of cloth pushed into his mouth, but the chain was too short, so he just growled in frustration.

“Don’t even try that, kid, it’s hopeless,” one of the men said, and Ciel glared at him. It was easy for him to talk — he wasn’t gagged like an animal.

The man must have interpreted his glare wrongly because he continued talking, as if Ciel encouraged him to converse.

“How did someone so little get tangled up in smuggling? I didn’t know Martha was accepting children to work for her. Though you are dressed nicely — perhaps you stole something from the passengers?”

Ciel let out an ambiguous sound, his mind working overtime.

Smuggling? What did smuggling have to do with poisoning?

“We should have waited,” a woman chained right next to him whispered, her voice heavy with regret. “It’s a new business, a new route, so of course the control is tighter. If we waited—”

“I told you to wait!” another man exclaimed. This one, on the contrary, was shaking with fury. “I told you, didn’t I? But none of you wanted to listen to me! They transport the poisons with one ship and the medicine with another. We had to focus on one of them, and only after the business had gotten steady!”

With supreme effort, Ciel finally managed to get the cloth out of his mouth and coughed, disgusted, trying to get rid of the nauseous flavour.

“Explain,” he gritted out. “What medicine?”

He could feel the eyes of everyone on himself, which only added to his frustration.

“Well?” Ciel demanded.

“You are too bold for a child,” the woman noted, a small smile lighting her face. “How did you even get here?”

“I was investigating the cases of poisoning.”

A startled laughter was his answer.

“Oh, boy, you are really unlucky, aren’t you?” the man who had been shaking with anger asked, shaking his head in mirthless amusement. “Poisoning is just a tip of the iceberg. Martha and her people have found a way to smuggle stuff from Bengal. They decided to set up a sort of medical business — make people sick from herbs and seeds they smuggle from Bengal, and then sell them the herbs and seeds that would make them feel better. They have been studying plants of Bengal for years and they tested them on animals. The poisoned people weren’t supposed to die, it’s just Martha started to test the smuggled stuff on the customers from her dinning place and she failed to calculate the dosages of one of her poisons correctly.”

“She should have dropped that kind of poison,” the woman added. “I warned her but she became obsessed with making it work.”

“This is absurd,” Ciel scoffed. “Sooner or later, people would realise they started feeling badly only after visiting that café.”

“It was only one of many places,” the man explained. “Martha wasn’t supposed to attract attention but—”

“But she started to view a potential business as a playfield and got lost in her foolish ambitions. Pathetic,” Ciel concluded, the gears in his head turning rapidly.

This was much better than he’d thought. Now, he had a chance to expose a whole smuggling ring, not just find a single murderer. If the underworld of London heard about it, they would be forced to realise that despite his age, Ciel was someone to be taken seriously.    

It was his way in. His way to establish a name for himself, to prove himself before the Queen and the underworld.

“What can a child like you understand?” another one of Ciel’s neighbours joined the conversation. “Martha’s business will bring her thousands! The entire underworld of London has respect for her now that she has found a new route for smuggling. The authorities have no idea about it, still — if you told us the truth, then they are only investigating the cases of poisoning. It just proves how brilliant Martha’s smuggling strategy is. Yes, there were some incidences, but in the end, it will prove to be beneficial for her. By fatal poisoning, she diverts attention from the real thing!”

“If you admire her so much, then what are you doing here?” Ciel asked coldly.

“They stole from me,” a new voice sounded, and Ciel’s head snapped in that direction. The same woman he and Sebastian had seen in the afternoon entered the room, followed by two tall men.

“Martha, I presume?” he asked, trying to appear calm. He felt no fear — without the gag, he could call for Sebastian at any second, and then everything would be over.

“I don’t know who you are,” the woman turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Perhaps I should have let you touch the thing you have been trying to steal from me — I would have had a good laugh at how your small body convulsed in seizure. But fortunately for you, your end will be less painful. I have no time for games.”

“He’s dressed too well to be a thief,” one of the newcomers noted, but Martha shrugged indifferently.

“I found him in my kitchen, at night, after he had broken my window to get inside. I don’t care what he wears — he could have stolen these clothes. All thieves deserve only one end. Take them and get rid of them while it’s still dark”.

“Sebas…” Ciel started to call out, but one of the men moved with surprising speed, pushing the gag back into his mouth. Shocked, Ciel tried to spit it out, but all he managed to do was get another blow to his head. Moaning silently in pain, he closed his eyes, clinging to the shapes of consciousness that tried to slip away from him.

Dimly, he understood that he was being led up the stairs, to the cold, dark street. Someone was begging for something right into his ear; another person was crying, getting louder and louder. When all shapes around him finally gained form, Ciel realised he was still chained to those other people, and they were standing in front of the Thames, on a small hill.

They were going to be pushed from it? When still chained?

A new wave of terror flooded Ciel, larger and more intense than anything he had experienced today. Jerking in a futile attempt to free himself from the burden of other people, he groaned in distress, understanding the extent of his helplessness.

Sebastian. Sebastian had to come. Sebastian had to save him! Yes, Ciel hadn’t managed to utter his name in its entirety, but surely Sebastian could find him based on the contract? He couldn’t die like that, on a foolish case, the very first one that was assigned to him. He couldn’t die without completing his revenge. He couldn’t die without giving his soul to Sebastian.

‘ _It will serve that demon right if I die and it will turn out that he has served me all these months for free_ ,’ Ciel thought darkly, and then all thoughts left his head as he was pushed right into the icy water, in a mess of limbs and cries of others. Someone’s leg crashed into his ribs, making him gasp, and his mouth was immediately filled with water.

Terrified, Ciel tried to move, but the chains were holding him tightly, and everything around him was plunging into thicker and thicker darkness. He was cold, and hurt, and scared, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

As he jerked once again in his chains, he managed to see a pale face of a woman he had been talking to, twisted in horror and agony. Ciel turned away from her, resenting the fact that he was going to die like this, chained to smugglers and thieves he didn’t even know, all because he wanted to prove to Sebastian that he wasn’t helpless and useless. What an irony.

Ciel’s vision started to turn black. Eventually, the only sound he could hear was the thudding of his own slowing pulse, and he closed his eyes, unwilling to accept this reality.

Everything changed suddenly. One moment he was drowning, going down, and down, and down, and the next, familiar hands grabbed him, tearing him from the trap of the chains effortlessly, as if they had been made from paper. Heavy locks were still binding Ciel’s hands together, but at least now, he wasn’t chained to others.

The second they reached the surface, Ciel was engulfed by a coughing, choking fit. He spat back the water, and then spat some again, and it seemed like his entire body consisted of it at this point because it kept coming and coming, stealing his ability to breathe. When he finally managed to inhale, his teeth were chattering and he was trembling so badly that he could barely see anything.

He could see Sebastian, though. Sebastian was sitting next to him, on the ground, staring at him with the eyes so crimson that Ciel felt lightheaded from both fear and relief. But no, not just from this — his consciousness was slipping again, and this time, he knew he wouldn’t wake any time soon, not after what he’d experienced.

He had to give Sebastian an order.

Save the drowning thieves, or secure a place for himself?

“Sebastian,” Ciel choked out, not recognising the hoarse sound as his voice. “This is… an order. Kill the men. Leave the woman alive. Go to the café before the police arrive — there is… a vial… ‘Chili’. Take the seeds. Put them into the woman’s pocket. We have to present… the evidence… if she doesn’t talk. The poison… her people might take it away before…”

For a brief second, Ciel could see something akin to admiration and surprise flare in Sebastian’s eyes, and despite his situation, he suddenly felt warm.

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian whispered, and there was such a deadly promise in his words that Ciel shivered, not sure if it was from cold or anticipation.

From his place, he saw Sebastian straighten and turn to Martha. Two of her men stepped forward, shielding her, but Ciel wasn’t interested in them. His eyes were glued to Sebastian. He opened his mouth to add that he wanted the thieves to be saved, but all he managed was a deep cough that almost tore his lungs out.

His vision was dimming, again, but Ciel still saw the shadows that separated from Sebastian as if they were living entities, gliding toward people in front of them. Several black feathers fell, and suddenly, the goal of Ciel’s life was to grab one of them. He rarely saw Sebastian in such form, and who knew if he would ever see him like this again.

  Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself forward, crawling to the closest feather. He threw all his strength into these several movements, and when his fingers finally closed over it, securing it in his hand, all power left, plunging Ciel back into darkness.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been asked recently about my thoughts on Ciel and Sebastian's relationship in the anime, so if you are interested, here's the link) https://k-s-morgan.tumblr.com/post/175072871883/do-you-think-sebastian-and-ciel-care-about-each I plan to focus on those specific moments extensively as the story goes on.


	3. Taking Roots in the Underworld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler chapter, with more focus on Ciel's feelings toward Sebastian and stuff that could have helped him establish useful connections to be able to perform his role as a Queen's Watchdog. I would love to jump into the events of the anime already, but we do need at least some setting :D I hope you'll enjoy it!

Ciel gained consciousness several times, blinking at his surroundings in a sleepy daze. Worry immediately began to gnaw at him, twisting his insides from the irrational fear of being abandoned, subsiding only when he saw Sebastian at his bed, and wasn’t it foolish? To think that the company of a demon was worth anything. But now, plunged into the pit of fever and pain that was buzzing in his very bones, Ciel clung to the illusion of his caretaker, watching him until his eyes closed and darkness claimed him again.

Once, as he woke up, Sebastian wasn’t there. Panic filled him instantly, crawling into his eyes, ears, nose, until Ciel was choking on it, terrified, confident that any second now, other people would come from the shadows — to hurt him, to take him away again, to kill him this time. Panting, Ciel jerked, not knowing what he was trying to do, and then his gaze fell on his own hand, where a dark feather was glistening. Despite being clutched tightly for however long, it didn’t look ruffled in the slightest — on the contrary, it looked fresh, and alive, and beautiful. So beautiful.

Ciel pulled it closer to his face, staring at it, enchanted, and his panic retreated, replaced by a wonderful sense of calm. Clumsily, he tried to stroke the feather with his fingers, but they refused to obey, so Ciel just pressed his fist to his chest and fell asleep again.

Through the thick fog, he could recall Sebastian making him sit and feeding him soup, slowly and carefully. Ciel didn’t remember the taste, but he did remember the feeling of infuriating, crushing helplessness.

And then Sebastian said something and tried to unclasp his hand. Upon seeing the feather, his eyebrows rose, and they continued to rise up, and up, and up, in what seemed like an endless motion. Ciel frowned and clenched his feather back, pulling it to himself protectively.

“Go away,” he murmured, or tried to, as his voice was a terrible rasp. Sebastian frowned and Ciel closed his eyes again, unwilling to continue watching him. Why would he need a demon now that he had his feather?  

He came to his senses from someone’s gentle touch. The hand that was caressing his forehead was not familiar and Ciel jumped in panic, trying to shake the stranger off. He stared at the figure in front of him, and slowly, it began to gain contours, turning into concerned Tanaka. 

Tanaka. Where did he come from? The last time Ciel had seen him was… in the hospital…

His train of thoughts came to a halt when Tanaka reached for him again. For a second, his image blurred, turning into the shape of a masked man with an evil, crazed grin. Ciel screamed, his terror overcoming the pain from his sore throat, and when the hand froze before rushing to him again, he shrieked, “Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebas…”

His torn throat gave up, not letting any more sounds escape, and Ciel choked, terrified even more, suffocating, yet still trying to crawl away from the threat.

The foreign shape disappeared and another one came in its stead. A familiar gloved hand, bringing a cool, soothing touch, making Ciel relax into it immediately. He barely contained an embarrassing whimper of relief.

As his breathing stabilised, he risked opening his eyes again and saw Tanaka bowing to Sebastian respectfully before walking away, leaving them alone.

Sebastian turned to him, and his lips stretched in a strange, almost terrifying half-smile, half-smirk. There was smugness there, and satisfaction, and something else, something dark and dangerous and cruel. Ciel thought he saw fangs instead of the normal teeth, but he felt no fear — not even when Sebastian leaned over him, his eyes glistening with bright, deep redness. There was also an indulgent tenderness there, and Ciel smiled at the sight of it, comforted.

Now, where there was no one but Sebastian in his room, he closed his eyes easily, safe and content.

 

 

***

 

 

His next awakening was accompanied by realisation that his fever was gone — along with his voice. No matter how hard Ciel tried, he couldn’t squeeze out a sound, and he didn’t know if he felt angry or humiliated because of this.

His memories were hazy. Dimly, he recalled Sebastian taking care of him — feeding him, bathing him… The feather.

Ciel’s eyes widened in embarrassed horror and he quickly examined his bed. The feather was lying next to his pillow, for everyone to see, and if he didn’t feel so weak, he would have blushed miserably.

Sebastian had definitely seen this. He would probably mock him for years now, and with a good reason.

Sighing, Ciel took the feather in his hand, examining it closely, admiring it despite his conflicting feelings.

It was truly beautiful. Enthralling. Such a glossy shade of profound black, with small flickers of red glittering through this complete darkness if the feather was subjected to the beams of light from the window.

And ridiculous or not, the sight of it still made him feel safe.  

Ciel wasn’t going to say goodbye to it — he was already humiliated to the point of no return, so there couldn’t be any harm in keeping it. Even though he would still have to be careful and keep it a secret. Let Sebastian guess what he’d done with it.

As soon as Ciel hid the feather under the pillow, the door opened and Sebastian entered, carrying a tray with something.

“Good morning, Young Master,” he said. “I can see you are feeling better today.”

Ciel tried to answer before he remembered that he couldn’t. All he managed was a half-hearted glare.

Sebastian’s lips twitched before he lowered the tray and offered him a cup of tea.

“I apologise for the inadequate serving but I believe you shouldn’t leave the bed yet,” he uttered, and Ciel shrugged. He accepted the tea and his hands began to shake so badly that he nearly spilled it. Astonished, he watched how Sebastian managed to grab the cup from him, sighing as if he found the situation incredibly bothersome.

“I will do it for you, my lord,” he offered, lifting the cup to Ciel’s lips, but he stopped when Ciel sent him the most vicious glare he could manage. Without trying to speak, he took the cup back from Sebastian, and this time, he was ready to hold onto it. This time, he grabbed it tightly, with both hands, and while it still shook, there was no threat of spilling it now.

Satisfied, Ciel took a sip, careful to keep his face blank. The taste was absent, but he guessed it had to be because of his illness. His nose wasn’t working as it should have, and without it, he couldn’t sense even the basic flavour.   

 As he finished the tea and the oatmeal with fruits that Sebastian had brought to him, Ciel kept wondering how he could ask questions without using his voice. He craved to know what had happened to his case, if it was closed, if the Queen was satisfied with his efforts.

Sebastian could have realised this without being prompted, but he was either an idiot or pretending to be one.

At first, Ciel just stared at him intently. Sebastian tilted his head in a mocking wonder in response before asking, “Would Young Master like another serving of oatmeal?” 

Ciel shook his head before making an inquisitive gesture. To his annoyance, Sebastian sent him an innocent smile.

“Another cup of tea, perhaps?”

‘ _Idiot_ ,’ Ciel mouthed. ‘ _How is the case?_ ’

Sebastian’s smile widened to a grin before he shook his head apologetically.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you are trying to say, Master,” he announced mournfully.

Baring his teeth in a silent snarl, Ciel gestured, pointing to his head and mimicking the action of putting a crown on it. It was utterly undignified, and the idiotic demon still pretended he didn’t understand him.

“Would you like a pen and a piece of paper?” Sebastian offered. “You might write your concerns down and I will do my best to address them.”

Ciel nodded, fuming. When Sebastian returned with the paper and a pen, Ciel grabbed it… and hesitated.

Writing down his questions would be an easy way out. Knowing Sebastian and his penchant for games, he would definitely give the briefest answers to force Ciel to write more.

There had to be another solution. Not only for now, but for the future instances, when they would have to communicate without others understanding them. Why not use all the potential of the current situation?

Ciel knew what Sebastian expected him to write, so he took pleasure in writing the opposite.

‘ _Bring me a book with the alphabet and another piece of paper_.’

Ceil drank in the expression of pure surprise on Sebastian’s face and smiled smugly as his demon stared at him, intrigued.

“A book with the alphabet?” he clarified, sounding bemused. Ciel narrowed his eyes, trying to convey the ‘ _Do you want me to repeat my orders?_ ’ message, and this time, Sebastian seemed to understand.

“Right away, my lord,” he said.

When Ciel got what he had asked for, he started working immediately, analysing the letters and then staring at the blank piece of paper before him. Sebastian remained in the room with him, and even without turning, Ciel knew he was being watched. Apparently, his behaviour intrigued Sebastian enough to remain with him and see what he was going to do.

More than satisfied, Ciel chose to ignore him, focusing on his task instead.

He had heard discussions about the Morse code, a way of sharing messages by special clicks, without speaking. Ciel didn’t know how to use it and whether there were books that could teach him, but in the end, it didn’t matter. What he liked was the idea of a special language that only selected people could understand.

It would be even better if he and Sebastian had a language of their own, which no other living being could decipher. If they could talk non-verbally, through a system of, say, knocks and touches…

Ciel found the idea so fascinating that he got entirely absorbed, not seeing anything but the letters and signs that he himself was coming up with. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but at some point, Sebastian interrupted him.

“Young Master, may I ask, what are you doing?”

Ciel frowned, displeased at having been distracted. How did Sebastian expect him to answer, anyway? Especially as he had failed to understand the most basic things Ciel had been trying to convey earlier?

He made a dismissive motion in response, watching how Sebastian stepped closer after it, as if now, he was even more curious.

“Are you drawing pictures?” he drawled, and Ciel rolled his eyes, not even insulted by this pathetic attempt at mockery.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get an answer, Sebastian evidently chose to change his tactic.

“Maybe I could assist you,” he noted, and Ciel snorted, glancing at him in disdain. As if he needed anyone’s help with this.  

On the other hand, if this new language was for him and Sebastian, then perhaps Sebastian could take part in helping him devise it. If they were both to contribute, it would help them to get used to it sooner.

Taking another piece of paper, Ciel began to write. When Sebastian read his note, his eyes lit up with even brighter curiosity, and he leaned over Ciel’s work, studying it.

“Interesting,” he uttered finally. “I have never witnessed a creation of a new language before. Do you wish for each letter to have one specific sign?”

‘ _It would help us to converse faster_ ,’ Ciel mouthed, and was satisfied when Sebastian nodded, easily understanding him now that he himself was interested in what they were doing.

“Would you allow me to assist, Master?” he asked, and Ciel nodded graciously, nodding at the bed to signify that Sebastian could sit down as well.

His afternoon was looking to be promising, which was a blessing, after all time he had already wasted.

 

 

***

 

 

Naturally, it took them far more than one afternoon to finish devising their system of signs. In two days, Ciel started to get out of bed on his own, and after countless hot draughts that Sebastian kept pouring into him, his voice began to return.

“Tell me what happened with the case,” he ordered as soon as he could, and Sebastian smirked, holding his gaze and undoubtedly enjoying the pause. To make him wait even more? Honestly…

“It was solved in a manner that I believe you will find satisfying,” Sebastian said finally. “The woman, Martha Collins, confessed after the Scotland Yard officers found the vial with poison in her pocket — that vial that you asked me to bring from her kitchen. The smuggling ring has been dismantled, many more people have been arrested. The Queen,” Sebastian’s lips curled slightly, “is very satisfied with your work. She wishes you a ‘speedy recovery’.”

“You could have told me that sooner,” Ciel scowled and winced when his throat protested.

“You did not ask and I did not consider this information crucial enough to share it,” Sebastian said, and Ciel’s palm itched with an already familiar desire to slap him.

Sebastian was mocking him — again. Of that, he had no doubts. Out of everyone, why did he have to be stuck with such a provoking demon? Or were they all like this?

“In the future, you will share every piece of information about the case we are investigating the moment you receive it,” Ciel said coolly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master,” Sebastian bowed.

Ciel ignored him after that, focusing on learning the signs they had already completed. He could feel the dark feather burning through the pillow, but he refused to even look in that direction.

He would hide it in his office once he felt well enough.

 “Did the people who were chained with me die?” he asked. Sebastian nodded.

“Their bodies were found later that day,” he said. “Did the Young Master want them to be saved?”

Annoyed at how Sebastian always managed to guess his thoughts, Ciel shrugged.

“They could be valuable witnesses,” he murmured.

“Are you sure it is the only reason?” Sebastian’s tone became silky, and Ciel immediately recognised the soft, dangerous notes he had heard when Sebastian had been trying to trick him into breaking the contract. “Those people could have lived a long life — in prison, perhaps, but after the icy waters of Thames, they would certainly appreciate it. They would be grateful to you.”

“What are you getting at?” Ciel snapped. “Do you expect me to care for some people I didn’t know? I spoke to them for about five minutes. I don’t approve of wasteful deaths, but at that moment, giving you instructions about the leader of the group was more important. I don’t regret the choice I’ve made. As for them being grateful and thus useful… I do need connections in the underworld but I will not use the lowest of the low. I will find worthier informants.”

If this was another test, Ciel seemed to have passed it. He couldn’t tell how he knew, but in all this time, he learned to recognise the signs of Sebastian being pleased. Whether it was the changing shade of his eyes, the barely noticeable uplifting of his lips, the slight twists of his facial muscles — Ciel didn’t know, but he knew it was there.

And it warmed his heart, despite the irritation he felt at being constantly tested.

“About the informants,” he added. “I want you to explore the underworld and most influential people within it. Find someone trustworthy — someone who still has a semblance of moral principles. We will make a contact with him or her.”

“Would you like me to both find an informant and make sure you have their loyalty?”

“When I said ‘we’, I meant exactly that,” Ciel corrected him. “You will find a person and I will meet with him or her. I cannot have their respect if you do all the work for me. I will participate.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian tilted his head, watching him attentively, and at that moment, Ciel would have given a lot to know what he was thinking.

Not that he cared al that much. But still.

 

 

***

 

 

Lau was a tall Chinese man who kept holding a smaller dark-haired girl, Ran-Mao, in front of him as if she were a shield. Ciel studied him carefully, recalling the description Sebastian had given to him earlier.

_Calm. Smart. Perceptive. Holding quite a big chunk of the underworld, being the top official of one of Chinese syndicates and the British branch manager of an influential trading company. Prone to violence, but reasonable, willing to negotiate._

Ciel liked the description. And he trusted Sebastian — in this, at least.

Now, with Sebastian standing behind him as a shadow, Ciel felt safe physically, but worry still crawled under his skin, as it had been doing since morning.

He had to produce an appropriate impression during this meeting. He had to show to this Lau that despite his age, he was to be taken seriously.

And he had to show to Sebastian that he was capable of doing something like this.

Realising that the pause was getting too long, Ciel raised his head, staring at Lau directly.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, keeping his voice cold. Lau hummed thoughtfully.

“I didn’t know who you were when your butler requested a meeting,” he uttered. “Now, seeing you in person, I can guess. The new Earl of Phantomhive, are you? You’ve caused quite a stir in our circles, after exposing the new smuggling ring. It took even me by surprise. I’m curious, what gave it away?”

“I hope you do not actually expect me to answer,” Ciel drawled. His heart was still beating wildly, but now, once engaged in conversation, he could feel his fear leaving him, replaced by a slow, steady swell of excitement.

He felt confident now that he was leading the conversation. He felt strangely at ease.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask since…” Lau started, but Ciel cut him off sharply.

“Enough. I came to warn you — and to make you an offer. I know everything about your business, both legal and illegal kinds. I know about your opium dens, each of them. You try to stay clean and to divert suspicions but I have enough evidence to have you immediately deported from the country.”

Ran-Mao tensed, and Ciel felt Sebastian shift behind his back, stepping closer to him. Lau’s face remained blank — his eyes travelled from Ciel to Sebastian and then back to Ciel. A small smile graced his lips then before he nodded, as if urging Ciel to continue.

“I am inclined to allow you to continue your business in the underworld without notifying the authorities,” Ciel said, hoping that he was still on the right track. "Furthermore, I will help you to expand your business by entrusting some of specific areas to you. Currently, I am not satisfied with—” Ciel paused, frantically recalling the notes he had made after Sebastian’s report. The underworld of England intimidated him with its size and its potential, and it took him ages to remember all districts and people controlling them.

He couldn’t forget them now. He couldn’t let himself be humiliated like this.

Panic made his pulse race, and then Sebastian touched the back of his shoulder, making his muscles relax automatically. The touch was so light, it was barely there, yet suddenly, Ciel remembered the names he needed with absolute clarity.

“…black market docks and East End,” he continued, pretending that the pause had been deliberate. “The control over the Oriental Quarter also fills me with doubts. I am planning to eliminate the people who lead them and I would be willing to leave the administration over them to you under certain conditions. Are you interested in hearing them?”

There was a pause again, with Lau regarding him thoughtfully. Something like interest glimmered in his eyes when he muttered, “Do go on, Earl. I am more than ready to hear your offer.”

“You are to report to me directly about everything related to crucial underworld dealings,” Ciel said immediately. Sebastian shifted slightly behind him and Ciel added, “If I am not available, you are to report to my butler, Sebastian Michaelis. You are to follow my orders, whatever they are, and you are not to hide the information that I require. You are to make sure that the news about the return of Earl of Phantomhive reach even the farthest corners of the underworld, and that people planning to cross me think twice of it before acting. Is that clear?”

Ran-Mao tensed even more, and for a second, Ciel thought that he had pushed too far. He wasn’t sure if his tone and his behaviour were appropriate — he acted on instinct, and if he broke some unspoken rules…

But Lau blinked, caressing Ran-Mao’s back gently, and the tension subsided.

“Normally, I would ask for some time for consideration,” Lau uttered, smiling serenely. “But I believe I won’t need it here. I accept your offer, Earl. I think you and I… and your butler… will have a rather fruitful cooperation.”

Relief and joy that swirled inside Ciel’s chest almost made him stagger, but he managed to control himself and simply nodded.

“I am glad to hear that,” he said haughtily. “Yet you still have to earn my trust. I will be watching you. Never forget it. If you attempt to lie to me, I will know, and there will be consequences.”

“I’ll be looking forward to your instructions, Earl,” Lau said, closing his eyes.

He didn’t open them even as Ciel told Sebastian they were leaving, even as they actually turned to leave. Ran-Mao, on the other hand, refused to take her eyes off them — Ciel felt her gaze until he and Sebastian walked out of the door.

There, he finally allowed himself to relax, breathing in the moist air greedily.

“Do you think it went well?” he asked without looking at Sebastian, even though the question that was rolling on the tip of his tongue was, ‘ _Do you think I did well?_ ’. Sebastian’s praise was a rare thing. During months of having him for a teacher, Ciel started to crave it — unconsciously at first, but now, even after catching himself on it, he couldn’t stop.

He wanted it. He wanted to know what Sebastian thought about him, about his efforts, about the results he’d achieved.

He would never let himself disclose these foolish desires, though. Not after what happened.

“It went better than I thought it would,” Sebastian said after a short deliberation, and Ciel squared his shoulders, happy to hear it. “Young Master has shown himself from his best sides. I would advise against trusting Lau until he proves himself but you clearly understand it yourself, considering what you said to him.”

“Of course I do,” Ciel huffed, ducking to hide a smile.

Everything was happening exactly by his plan — even better. He had established the connection with the underworld, he had pleased the Queen, proving that he was worthy of his family’s name, and he and Sebastian had prepared their special language to communicate secretly.

Who knew what else they would manage to achieve? Ciel wasn’t stupid, not anymore — he knew that what he was experiencing now was worthless. Yet for one short moment, he allowed himself to revel in the deceptive feeling of omnipotence, basking in Sebastian’s inherent presence.         


	4. Game №1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments, kudos, and bookmarks - I'm so pleased that you are enjoying the story! This chapter echoes a moment from E2 of S1. More about it in the end notes)

Cinnamon and orange. Cinnamon and peppermint. Lemon and… raspberry?

Yes. Raspberry.

This could work.

“Seba…”  Ciel started and stopped when Sebastian materialised right in front of him, even before he finished uttering his name.

How did he manage to move like this? Ciel hated being taken aback — and he hated when his orders were ignored.

“I told you to use the door,” he said darkly. “I don’t want you to just appear out of nowhere. What if someone sees you?”

“I would know if you had company, Young Master,” Sebastian assured him, his lips stretching in a fake smile. “However, if it pleases you, I will only use the door from now on.”

“Make sure you do. Unless there is an emergency,” Ciel added. Sebastian liked twisting his orders too much, so he couldn’t be trusted. “I have another order for you. Go and make candies — some with cinnamon and orange, some with cinnamon and peppermint, and some with lemon and raspberry. I’ll need them within the next several hours.”

The expression of indignant astonishment on Sebastian’s face was so clear that Ciel lowered his head, hiding the beginning of a smile.

“I apologise, Young Master, but I cannot allow you to consume this many sweets,” Sebastian said finally. “We have already discussed it. You feel sick after—”

“Yes, I know. I am not a child,” Ciel growled, looking up again. Who did Sebastian take him for? After that last embarrassment, Ciel would never dine on candies or pastries again. And why would a demon watch his sugar intake in the first place? The mere notion was ridiculous.

“I’m not going to eat them all,” Ciel explained. “But I want to create some special recipes for Funtom Corporation. The company is basically useless now because my f… predecessor didn’t have time to develop it. It is very new and currently, practically no one is aware of it. I want to change that.”

“You believe you will be able to run a company?” Sebastian asked, his eyebrows rising. “I won’t pretend to know how it works, but you will have to do more than make up recipes and taste sweets that I make — surely you understand it?”

Ciel slammed his hand against the table, glaring. An ugly, vicious feeling twisted his insides at the sound of Sebastian’s condescending tone and the words he had spoken, at the lack of respect they implied.

It seemed like Sebastian still refused to take him seriously.

Fine. They would see what he had to say in several months.

“You are right — you don’t know how it works,” Ciel sneered. “But I do. And what I do not know, I will learn. Funtom Corporation will become known and it will bring me profits. I will use your help in certain matters, so I suggest you learn what you can about operating a business like this.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Sebastian bowed without enthusiasm. “Would you like me to accelerate the process? I could ensure that Funtom Corporation is at the top of—”

“Sebastian,” Ciel said slowly, satisfied with the steely notes that entered his voice. He leaned against his chair, studying Sebastian with as much coldness as he could produce. “What did I tell you about doing everything in a normal, human way? Is your memory so full of holes that you need me to repeat my orders several times until you remember them?”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, but that was the only evidence of his displeasure. He bowed his head again in a silent apology, and Ciel relaxed.

“You and I will work,” he said curtly. “And we will work hard. I won’t have anyone saying that I am not the one responsible for my success — not even you. You will help me because you are my servant, but I will be the one to give you orders and to control and organise everything. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, Master,” this time, when Sebastian looked at him, Ciel could see the first flickers of interest in his eyes. Despite his penchant for overusing his powers, Sebastian seemed to delight in working to achieve results. If Ciel could get him to become genuinely interested in Funtom Corporation, its success would be even larger than he had estimated initially because whether or not he wanted to admit it, he needed Sebastian’s assistance. He needed his insight and his advice, but he would never ask for anything if he felt that Sebastian waited, _anticipated_ him to fail.

Sebastian’s genuine investment was obligatory and Ciel would achieve it by any means necessary, even if he had to manipulate him.

In all these months, he started to learn how to do that without it being noticed. For a supposedly ancient demon, Sebastian could be surprisingly malleable — all Ciel had to do was to make some task seem especially shiny and interesting, and Sebastian focused on it with intensity of children fixated on a new toy.       

It was almost funny.

“Well, why are you standing here?” Ciel asked. “I told you what candies to make. We will try with these three flavours and I will pick which version we will be producing first.”

“I will start immediately,” Sebastian assured him, and then his face became blank again, so quickly that Ciel was confounded by such a sudden change. “However,” Sebastian said after a pause, “there is something I must inform you of first. Lau has sent you a letter. Apparently, someone in the underworld is dissatisfied with your decision to continue with your family’s responsibilities. A hired killer has been dispatched to eliminate you. According to Lau, he or she will contact you and use an excuse to get into your house, and that person won’t look immediately suspicious.”

“Everyone is suspicious to me,” Ciel said, eyeing Sebastian uncertainly. Someone hired an actual assassin to kill him? He did get his share of attackers — bandits, kidnappers, even burglars who thought that his house was empty… but someone professional enough to want to strike a conversation and get an invitation to his house? That was unusual.

That was scarier.

Ciel hunched his shoulders, frowning, feeling strangely intimidated.

He had just started his work in the underworld — and someone already wanted to kill him for that? If it weren’t for Lau…

“Young Master?” Sebastian’s voice tore him from his thoughts. Ciel glanced at him. Sebastian looked concerned — he even stepped closer, as if already prepared to shield him from the threat, and Ciel relaxed, instantly at ease.

He wasn’t scared of anything — not with Sebastian by his side. With what he was doing, he was bound to have enemies. The more time would pass, the bigger their number would be. And if he couldn’t help it… then he would make sure that his name was known by everyone in the underworld — known and feared.

“I can try to find out the identity of the killer before they make contact with you,” Sebastian offered, still watching him attentively, and Ciel shook his head.

“No,” he said. Now that he’d made the decision, his body began to vibrate in excited anticipation. “We will play a game, Sebastian. We will prepare something very special for our guest.”

“A game, my lord?” undisguised surprise in Sebastian’s voice made Ciel’s grin widen.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, the gears in his mind turning already, one idea replacing the other. “If this killer differs from those idiots that come after me occasionally, then he or she might prove to be a worthier challenge. We could organise a whole performance — for instance, you might play the role of a witless old man whose biggest concern is the quality of the tea…”

“Old man?” Sebastian repeated, and he sounded so offended that for a second Ciel fell silent, taken aback by a rush of strange endearment that coursed through him.

What a ridiculous demon he had.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he explained, rolling his eyes to show Sebastian just what he thought of his silliness. “But you will produce an impression of a useless, slow butler. I, on the other hand, will behave just the way this person must expect me to. We could…” Ciel thought about it for a moment. “We could set some goals. For example, I might try to play an idiot and make this killer follow me to the basement. It will be easier to get rid of them there — less noise and a smaller mess to clean afterwards.”

“They won’t go there,” Sebastian noted. “No one in the underworld is entirely sure of what to expect from you, so regardless of your age, this killer will be cautious. They won’t go to a place that looks like a trap, so basement might not be the best choice.”

“Cautious or not, they will also be eager to finish their task early. The basement could look like a good opportunity for that.”

 “No one could possibly fall for such an obvious ploy.”  

“Want to bet?” Ciel smirked, and finally, Sebastian’s eyes lit up with the same anticipation he himself was feeling.

“So you are indeed turning this into a game,” Sebastian drawled thoughtfully. “Very well, Young Master. You prepare your part of performance and I, with your permission, will prepare mine.”

“Oh?” Ciel peeked at him curiously. “Do you have something in mind?”

Sebastian’s lips curled in a small, mysterious smile.

“I most certainly do,” he said.

 

 

***

 

 

They didn’t have to wait long. In two days, Ciel received a letter from someone calling himself Benjamin Rassford , claiming he was interested in sponsoring Funtom Corporation and offering to discuss it during his visit.

Ciel had to admit he was surprised. He had just started working on Funtom Corporation, so how this man could know about it already was a mystery. Nevertheless, he gave a perfectly polite and semi-enthusiastic reply, arranging a meeting — and then finalising his plans with Sebastian.

The depth of his own excitement worried Ciel. Logically, he thought he shouldn’t look forward to something like this — he wasn’t particularly fond of the massacre Sebastian was engaging in from time to time, when the intruders came. Now, though, when he was also participating, he couldn’t deny the allure. The sense of power that was filling him at the mere thought of tricking the murderer and seeing shock and confusion in his eyes as life bled away from him.

Ciel had been a witness to this in that longest, coldest month of his life, when he had first met Sebastian.

He wondered if participating in demise of Benjamin Rassford would feel as satisfying.

Reading Sebastian was difficult, but if he had to, Ciel would say that his butler was also excited. The idea of turning murder into a game seemed to delight him – or maybe there was something else, too, because the way he kept watching Ciel was… strange. Sebastian’s eyes were both contemplative and sinister, and while Ciel refused to feel unease, worry still gnawed at him, whispering that Sebastian was planning something. Something he wouldn’t share with him even if Ciel tried to ask.

It made the time of his studies even more excruciating.

“Wrong,” Sebastian snapped, sending him a narrow-eyed look. “This is the third mistake you have made today. This is unacceptable. Your hands, please.”

Ciel glared at him before obeying, grimacing even before the sharp sting of pain burned through his palms.

It’s not that he disliked French, or Sebastian’s manner of teaching. Sebastian was a good teacher — in these months, he managed to teach him more than Ciel had learned in the previous years. There was also something vaguely fascinating in how Sebastian transformed as he took the role of a teacher, how his voice deepened, became colder and demanding. Ciel felt almost compelled to do good, and even if his instinct to obey was concerning, he knew it was for the best. He did have a lot to learn, and Sebastian’s approach was definitely working.   

Learning French was obligatory. Ciel could imagine how many opportunities would open for him once he was able to communicate in it flawlessly, but today, his thoughts were far from his lesson.

He wanted the game to start.

He wanted to know what Sebastian was planning.

Glancing at the clock carefully, Ciel tried to focus on the letters in front of him, recalling everything he knew about French subjunctive.

 _Je veux que vous dansez_ , he wrote, then stopped, frowning.

He wasn’t sure how to translate the rest of the sentence. He wasn’t sure that what he’d written was correct in the first place.

…If he was right and Sebastian was planning something that he didn’t wish to discuss with him, then it was most likely something concerning him directly. Something against him. Otherwise, why would Sebastian keep it a mystery?

He was plotting. Sometimes Ciel thought that he was always plotting something, and that one day, he would wake up and Sebastian wouldn’t obey him at all. That he would just grin at him, slowly and darkly, before breaking every bone in his body, smiling wider at his screams, finally forcefully taking his soul while he was still in agony.

Shuddering, Ciel finished his translation and pushed the piece of paper to Sebastian. Sebastian took it, examining the lines, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

“Wrong,” he said shortly. “Your concentration is abysmal today. Hands open.”

Oh.

That was going to hurt. His hands were already burning after all strikes he had received within the last hour — adding more would probably feel hellish.

But it was nothing in comparison to the pain that had been inflicted on him before.

Ciel Phantomhive wasn’t scared of physical pain. Not anymore.

Clenching his jaw, Ciel held out his hands, staring at Sebastian’s pointer grimly. He hated being hit with this thing. Pity that Sebastian seemed to have grown fond of it lately.

A pause stretched, and when nothing happened, Ciel looked up in surprise.

Sebastian was frowning, staring at his hands. They were shaking slightly, protesting against the treatment they’d been receiving, and Ciel glowered at them before glancing at Sebastian again.

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “I don’t have all day.”

Sebastian hesitated. His frown deepened and a shadow of confusion flickered across his face before he schooled it.

“That’s enough for today,” he said finally. “We will continue the day after tomorrow. However, I expect you to translate the first story from here until then,” Sebastian dropped a book in front of him and Ciel stared at him, torn between annoyance and surprise.

What had come over Sebastian? He had never refrained from punishing him before, when Ciel deserved it. And he certainly deserved it now. 

On the other hand, Sebastian’s punishments were never quite as painful as today — because Ciel rarely deserved to be hit so many times in a row.

Collecting his things, Ciel risked a quick glance in Sebastian’s direction. He was no longer frowning but he was still looking at Ciel’s hands, the air around him faintly displeased.

Did Sebastian not like seeing him in physical pain?

Interesting.

Wanting to test his theory, Ciel cradled one of his hands to his chest, cringing inwardly from embarrassment. It was awkward. Unbecoming. Pathe…

All thoughts faded when Sebastian approached him in several quick steps and took his hand, examining it, the frown returning to his face.

“I will bring some ice for it,” he said.

Ciel stared after him long since Sebastian disappeared, his mouth hanging open.

He was shocked. His hands didn’t hurt badly enough to warrant ice treatment, but if Sebastian wanted to do it, Ciel wasn’t going to stop him — he would gladly observe this strangeness while it lasted.

He was pleased. For Sebastian to be bothered by something as insignificant, to refuse to hit him again because he thought it was too much…

Yes, Ciel was pleased.

Perhaps too pleased.

Dangerously so.

 

 

***

 

 

“Earl Phantomhive, I presume? It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Benjamin Rassford was a tall, middle-aged man with a smile that emanated friendliness — a very fake kind of it.

Ciel nodded, offering his hand and trying to appear flustered. Sebastian was standing behind Rassford — a dark, comforting shadow, and a brief look at him revealed that he was entirely focused on his task. His eyes were fixed on Rassford’s back, tracking his slightest movements, and while he appeared relaxed, Ciel knew that this would change instantly if Rassford were to suddenly attack him.

Despite all his flaws, Sebastian was protective of him. Even if it was his soul that he cared about, not Ciel himself, it still sent wave after wave of warmth through Ciel’s body.

Shaking his head to clear it from unwanted thoughts, Ciel smiled at Rassford and gushed, “I was so happy to receive your letter! I was just planning to look for sponsors for my company. I thought it would take me at least several months, but then you contacted me with your offer… How did you know about Funtom Corporation — it’s not even popular, not at the moment? What offer are you considering? I would like to have—”

“Young Master,” Sebastian interrupted him gently, throwing an apologetic look at Rassford. “You shouldn’t keep your guest here.”

“Oh… right,” Ciel bit his lower lip in fake embarrassment, rubbing his hands so nervously that he almost giggled at the terrible awkwardness of it all.

Rassford, the fool he was, relaxed, smiling indulgently.

“It is fine,” he assured. “I understand it must be difficult for you to get used to your new responsibilities — after all, you are still a child.”

 _And you are a dead man still walking_ , Ciel thought before letting his shoulders slump.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I apologise for my manners. Sometimes I let the excitement get the best of me. It’s just your offer… my company… that is…” Ciel blushed, hanging his head. He glanced at Sebastian from under his lashes to check his reaction, and Sebastian raised his eyebrows in obvious amusement, looking surprised and… impressed?

Satisfied, Ciel looked at him openly now, pouring all helplessness and vulnerability into his gaze and making sure Rassford witnessed it.

Some strange emotion crossed Sebastian’s face, but in the next second, he stepped forward, playing the courteous, embarrassed butler.

“Please follow me,” he said, moving towards the living room. “I will serve tea and you will be able to discuss your offer with Young Master, Mr. Rassford.”

“Of course,” Rassford said smoothly. He clearly dismissed Ciel as unworthy and fixed his gaze on Sebastian, probably determining whether or not he posed any threat.

So far, everything was going according to their plan. Rassford was bound to be suspicious, having heard about Ciel’s success with locating and dismantling the new smuggling ring and wondering if he had been lucky or dangerous. Now, as he discarded the latter idea, it was only logical to focus on Sebastian, Ciel’s right hand, wondering if he was the one behind their successful mission.

As the tea was served and their discussion started, Ciel could see that the last pieces of Rassford’s suspicions were dissolving. His look lost its sharpness and he started to speak almost lazily, watching Sebastian with obvious contempt.

Ciel found it strangely irritating but he hid it well, smiling with and without reason, pretending to be an overexcited child whose life-goal was to produce as many sweets as humanly possible — and then eat them all.

 Sebastian was also excellent in his role. His movements were much slower than usual, which made him look harmless and almost clumsy at times. He hovered over Rassford and Ciel with a worried expression, asking again and again if they needed something, as if concerned about the outcome of their negotiations more that Ciel pretended to be himself, wanting everything to be perfect and failing in the process.

The second-rate butler of a spoiled child. Just what they had decided to portray.

“Sebastian, leave us alone!” Ciel snapped finally. He was getting bored with this meaningless conversation — it was time for the next step. Time to prove that he could trick Rassford into following him to the basement — the basement that he would never get to leave. “Go and make some more sweets. And dinner, too. I am perfectly capable of having a conversation without your assistance! Mr. Rassford and I will make a deal as it is. Right, Mr. Rassford?” Ciel stared at his clueless guest hopefully and was rewarded by a condescending smirk.

“Yes, I don’t doubt we will reach an agreement soon,” Rassford said. Beaming, Ciel turned to Sebastian.

“Leave,” he ordered. “And don’t bother us, not until I call for you. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian bowed, a flawless picture of devotion, before walking out of the room.

Ciel stretched in his place, yawning and then quickly covering his mouth with his hand.

“Apologies,” he murmured. “So… where were we?”

“You were going to tell me about the new flavours you have developed,” Rassford said, his eyes flickering to the door where Sebastian disappeared, probably making sure he had indeed left.

“Oh, yes!” Ciel perked up. “Why don’t you taste some for yourself? I have an entire collection that you could choose from!”

“Indeed?” Rassford looked interested. “Where is that?”

“Follow me,” Ciel jumped from his chair and moved to the door. Opening it, he let Rassford come first. It earned him a confused expression, so Ciel started chatting immediately, hoping to distract Rassford from his mistake.

He couldn’t allow himself to turn his back to a killer. Sebastian was powerful, but if Rassford moved quickly and abruptly enough, who knew what might happen. Now, at least, Ciel could watch him, and if he saw Rassford’s hands move, he’d know what it meant.

And he would call Sebastian.

“Here,” he said finally, stopping next to the brown door.

“A basement?” Rassford asked slowly, and Ciel nodded, trying to appear casual.

“Sebastian said that I couldn’t eat them all and that we had to keep them away from light for the time being. Which ones would you like to try first? With orange or with mint? Or chocolate and strawberry ones?”   

This time, Ciel did turn his back to Rassford, coming down the stairs slowly. The basement was mostly dark — the only source of light was a small window, and Ciel moved toward it, counting in his head.

Two.

Four.

Six.

When he reached eight, the door above him closed, and he grinned in triumph before turning to Rassford.

“Why did you close the door?” he asked innocently and gasped when he saw a gun pointed at him.

“I had a more elaborate scheme in mind but you have made my job easier,” Rassford said, smirking arrogantly. “You don’t have a lot of servants, do you, little Earl? With your butler away and us locked here, no one will hear the gunshot. I might even keep this identity — I’ll just return to your living room and pretend that you have gone to the basement by yourself, with someone already waiting for you there.”

“That would be a very weak alibi,” Ciel noted, suddenly bored. He had done what he and Sebastian had bet on — he’d brought this idiot here. Now it was time to end the game. “Scotland Yard would check your background and realise immediately that you are in no position to support me financially. Your excuse to get into my house would be ruined and you would become a primary suspect.”

“What?” Rassford gaped at him, so flabbergasted that Ciel couldn’t fight his own smirk.

“Please,” he scoffed. “Did you really think a fool that I pretended to be would be able to solve a case? It would take—”

He didn’t finish because a choked sound interrupted him, coming from one of the dark corners. Frowning, Ciel glanced there.

Sebastian stumbled forward, looking so terrified that for a second, Ciel actually became concerned.

“Please, don’t hurt the Young Master,” Sebastian said, staring at Rassford. “He is just a child. It is not his fault that the Queen forces him to do her bidding.”

Ciel bristled, clenching his fists in a burst of genuine anger. Game or not, Sebastian had to watch his tongue. This was taking it too far.

“What are you doing here?” Rassford asked, perplexed. “You were supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“I had to pick some ingredients from here,” Sebastian said, his voice trembling, and Ciel didn’t know if he felt amused or disturbed.

He didn’t like hearing fear in Sebastian’s voice. It made him uneasy, filling him with tension and anxiety he despised.

There was no point in pretending any longer. What was Sebastian doing?

“Young Master never wanted to be the Queen’s Watchdog,” Sebastian continued. “If you leave now, we won’t tell anyone.”

Ciel snorted and Rassford echoed it.

“Sorry, butler,” he said coldly. “Your Master’s time is up. I didn’t want to kill you, it wasn’t my task, but seems like you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, I thought you would be pleased if you didn’t have to deal with such an annoying brat all the time.”

“He is my Master,” Sebastian said softly and Rassford laughed.

“Not anymore,” he uttered before aiming the gun at Ciel. His finger pressed against the trigger when Sebastian exclaimed “No!” and jumped in front of Ciel, right when the gunshot went off.

Ciel couldn’t see whether the bullet had hit him or not. It couldn’t – surely Sebastian wasn’t stupid enough to dive in front of a bullet like that. He had probably caught it, or had managed to break Rassford’s gun, or…

But Sebastian staggered, letting out a terrible noise. Then he collapsed and Ciel stared at him wide-eyed.

His heart stopped. There were no other words to describe it. Suddenly, he was full of nauseating bile — it burned through him, sending a thick wave of vomit to his throat, and the need to spew it became so unbearable that Ciel pressed his hands against his mouth, choking.

“Se… Sebastian,” he whispered. His voice shook. His hands shook. His legs shook as well, threatening to buckle under him.

He didn’t notice how he dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch Sebastian’s chest and recoiling when his hand collided with something warm and sticky.

Blood. Sebastian was bleeding.

Ciel had never seen him bleed — not like this. Sebastian had dealt with countless intruders but he had never, never been hurt. He was a demon — he was faster, stronger, more powerful. How could a simple gun reduce him to such a state?

“Sebastian!” Ciel called harshly. “Get up! Sebastian!”

Nothing happened. Nothing.

His breath hitched, and Ciel touched Sebastian again, disregarding blood this time.  

 He couldn't get a grip on his thoughts. He couldn't even begin to set them in order and make any semblance of plan. Dimply, he remembered Rassford and his gun, but his self-preservation instincts didn’t kick in. All Ciel could see was Sebastian, bleeding, dead, and terrible emptiness that gripped him reminded him of December.

His parents, dead. His servants, even his dog — everyone frozen; shells, not people.

Days in captivity. Children around him — tortured and killed, one by one, day after day.

Loneliness. Terror.

Everyone was leaving him, always. No one stayed. And now Sebastian…

Sebastian promised. How could he die? How could he die — protecting him?

No. No, it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.

“Didn’t know your attachment was that strong, kid,” Rassford drawled mockingly. “He’s just a butler.”

Ciel looked at him slowly, still shocked.

Was it really over? His revenge. His plans. Over some… game? Because of this insignificant worm?

Rassford aimed at him again and Ciel just stared. He thought he should be angry, furious, maybe even hysterical, but all he felt was numbness. Caught between shock and disbelief, he couldn't even breathe, never mind speak.

“Goodbye,” Rassford said tonelessly, but before he could fire, a loud sigh pierced the silence.

Stunned, Ciel watched how Sebastian started to move, stretching his limbs as if from a lengthy sleep. Finally, he stood up, studying the hole in his chest curiously.

“Your gun is rather old, Mr. Rassford,” he noted, his voice brimming with disapproval. “To be honest, I expected something newer. I am already familiar with the impact of this exact type of bullets.”

Ciel’s vision turned black for a second. His ears filled with the thudding of his pulse as he stared at Sebastian, unable to believe his eyes.

He was alive.

He was alive.

He was alive.

Ciel must have made some sort of sound because Sebastian glanced at him, his eyes amused.

Amused.

The bastard thought this was funny.

 Ciel barely noticed how Sebastian moved to Rassford. He didn’t pay attention to the loud, horrified scream, to the sound flesh being torn. To the thud that must have signified Rassford’s death.

Ciel didn’t care. His heart was still beating erratically, flashes of nightmares flickering before his eyes, making him gasp for breath, confusing his realities.

_His dead parents, surrounded by orange flames._

No, the basement. He was in the basement. There were no flames here.

_Dead children around him, their empty eyes staring at him accusingly because Ciel lived and they didn’t. Their blood splattered everywhere as a constant, inevitable reminder of what was waiting for him._

No, he was safe. Not for long, but for now. No one would touch his body — it was his soul that would be eventually destroyed.

_Dead Sebastian. And with him, Ciel’s every hope. Dead. Shattered._

No, Sebastian was here. He was kneeling in front of him, breaking into his personal space, his eyes half-closed in expression of endless pleasure. He was breathing in deeply, as if he was… enjoying this. As if he was actually drinking in Ciel’s anguish. As if he found the taste of his pain irresistible.

Monster. He was a monster. An utter, despicable monster.

Relief, fury, and disgust were warring for dominance. Ciel didn’t know what he wanted more — to stay like this, in Sebastian’s proximity, assuring himself that he was indeed alive… to slap him, to pry the gun from Rassford’s dead fingers and shoot him again, and again, and again… or to flee — far from here. From his embarrassing breakdown. From another one of humiliations he had only himself to blame.

Of course Sebastian wouldn’t die from a simple human bullet. He was a demon. A goddamn demon who must have lived for hundreds of years already, who must have served countless masters and who had been shot numerous times.

People couldn’t kill demons. It was impossible. And yet he still fell for it despite knowing that Sebastian had been planning something — something to test him.

He had failed the test. Instead, he had given Sebastian an unplanned feast, letting him feed on his pain.

Sebastian’s eyes were still half-closed in bliss, the smile on his lips so otherworldly that it chilled Ciel to the bones.

Licking his lips, Ciel desperately tried to gather his thoughts and to determine the best course of actions. Visions of the past were still trying to break through his resolve, making it difficult to focus, to remove the image of unmoving, bleeding Sebastian from his mind.

Sebastian almost purred, leaning even closer.

“Call my name,” he whispered, and this time, it was too much.

“Get away from me, demon!” Ciel hissed, pushing him away with all strength he possessed. Shaking, he managed to stand up, trying to ignore a small pool of blood under his feet — Sebastian’s blood. Probably still warm. “You…”

“Your order has been fulfilled, my lord,” Sebastian stood up with him, touching his hair affectionately. His touch was tender, but there was so much vicious hunger burning in his eyes that Ciel felt sick.

“Don’t touch me,” he breathed out. “You… you…”

He didn’t have the right words. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t making him look even more pitiful.

“I’m touched that you were worried about me, Young Master,” Sebastian uttered, his gentle voice contradicted by his predatory, amused stare. “I wondered about that. I wondered how you would react.”

“Well, I hope you sated your curiosity,” Ciel tried to speak coldly but he wasn’t sure he was successful. His voice continued to tremble. “I admit, you have taken me aback. For a moment, I thought you were dead and that Rassford would kill me — because of your incompetence.”

“I would never let anything happen to you,” Sebastian reassured him, but after what he’d done, his words sounded like a mockery.

“You’d better keep this promise — or you will never have my soul,” Ciel warned, raising his chin defiantly. “Clean everything up and get rid of the body. The game was not nearly as interesting as I hoped it would be.”

Turning away, Ciel moved up the stairs, feeling Sebastian’s eyes on his back and praying that he wouldn’t say anything.

He had to get to his room. As soon as possible.

He had to feel safe.

 

When the door closed after him, Ciel collapsed, hugging his knees to his chest and breathing deeply.

In. Out. Slowly. There was nothing to fear. It was just Sebastian’s stupid test, and even if Ciel had failed, it didn’t change anything. Sebastian was still alive and he was still his butler. Next time, Ciel would be prepared.

He would be all right.

Absently, he wondered how many times he had to repeat it to believe his own words.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it interesting how Ciel reacts to Sebastian getting shot in E2 of S1. His first instinctive reaction is fear, even though at that point, he clearly knows that bullets cannot hurt Sebastian. Regardless, he still starts to scream his name before he remembers himself. I couldn't help but wonder how he would react the very first time it happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	5. Eleven Months Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thank you all so much for your support - I'm thrilled to see you are enjoying this story. This is a relationship-focused chapter - the next one will finally have Ciel and Sebastian doing some headhunting)

_The flames came back, higher and more scorching than ever. Ciel whimpered, lost in the middle of them, unable to see or hear anything but the roaring of fire._

_His parents were dead. He knew it. He didn’t need to see their bodies — the knowledge was there, as solid and irrevocable as realisation that he, too, was going to die soon._

_The flames hissed, licking closer to him, slowly melting his skin off his bones. Ciel cried — in fear, in pain, in helpless fury. When the wall of fire began to close over him, he threw himself forward, right into the flames, desperately hoping that he would find the door behind them and that a brief contact with fire wouldn’t kill him._

_To his surprise, he felt no pain. The flames let him in easily, and then there was indeed a door and a long corridor — the one that led to the final exit from this hellish trap._

_When there were just several steps left to safety, something stopped him. Ciel turned and saw a tall, dark silhouette standing on the opposite end of the corridor. He couldn’t see the face from here, but something about this figure — its contours, the unnatural stillness with which it was holding itself, was instantly, instinctively recognisable._

_Sebastian._

_Ciel glanced at the door, then back at Sebastian._

_He didn’t need him right now — the exit was right in front of him. He didn’t need his help. And yet…_

_He started moving before he even realised it. The fire was near, it could burst from one of the rooms any moment now, but Ciel continued to walk toward Sebastian. He didn’t know why; he wasn’t sure why Sebastian felt safer than the actual exit._

_“What are you doing here?” Ciel asked when he finally approached. Sebastian looked at him silently, his eyes glistening in a strange, ominous way._

_Ciel shivered, even more unsure now, but instead of retreating, he just stepped closer._

_“We are leaving,” he ordered. “Take me out of here.”_

_Sebastian smiled and opened his arms, and Ciel stepped into them without hesitation, expecting to be picked up. However, Sebastian’s hands went to his hair, caressing it gently, and then slipped down his neck. Ciel lifted his head in surprise._

_Despite the soft touch, Sebastian’s eyes were cold. His grip tightened, and when Ciel gasped, he did pick him up — by the neck. Pressure made him choke, but Ciel did not try to pull free, for a reason he couldn’t understand. He didn’t try to fight even as Sebastian carried him back to the room from which he had escaped earlier, bringing him back to the fire. Then he tossed him right in the middle of it, confident and indifferent as ever, and this time, the fire did hurt. The flames tore into him mercilessly, filling him with liquid, agonizing pain, and Ciel screamed — burning, burning…_ Burning _._

He woke up with a start, panting as if he’d run a mile. For a second, he could still feel the toxic smoke in his lungs, the bitterness from Sebastian’s betrayal, and then his consciousness slammed back in, chasing the illusions away.

He was in his bed. In his house. There was no fire — there hadn’t been for almost a year now. It was just a nightmare, one of many, and it was high time he got used to them and stopped panicking.

Annoyed with himself, Ciel left the bed and walked towards the window, staring at the bare greyness.  

At least he hadn’t screamed this time, or Sebastian would have come to wake him up.

Months had passed since their game with Rassford. Three more games had happened after it, and yet the nightmares were still vivid — and each of them now involved Sebastian, in one way or another.

When would it stop?

The floor was wintery cold despite the fire cracking in the fireplace. Ciel stared at it and nausea crawled up his throat, bringing back the memories of _smoke_ , _heat_ , _death_.

No. Stop.

He forced himself to look away, wrapping his arms around himself when more coldness came in a wave.

He hated winters.

A soft knock startled him. Ciel frowned, cursing Sebastian and his hearing, and then mumbled, “Come in.”

Sebastian walked inside, holding a candlestick in his hands.

“Young Master,” he said flatly. “Is something wrong? You are supposed to be sleeping at this hour.”

“I was. Then I woke up.”

“Would you like me to bring you something soothing to drink? Some milk?”

“No, thank you. You can leave. I won’t need you tonight.”

“Very well,” Sebastian smiled and Ciel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He became well acquainted with Sebastian’s smiles by now, and this allegedly innocent one meant that Sebastian was going to be especially annoying. “Only after you return to your bed.”

Why the hell was Sebastian so obsessed with his regimen? Ciel shouldn’t have encouraged it. It was much more satisfactory when Sebastian left him alone whenever he asked, like he had been doing during the first month of their life together. He paid no attention to Ciel’s state then — if Ciel dismissed him, he went, asking no further questions.

This more responsible version of a butler was maddening.

“I’ll return to it in a minute,” Ciel said calmly.

“You should do it now, Master — you are cold.”

“I’m not.”

“Your feet are turning blue.”

“No, they are not!”  Ciel shouted indignantly before he cringed, realising how childishly that sounded.

Sebastian remained unmoved.

“It is your birthday tomorrow — or rather, today,” he said. “You should rest particularly well.” 

The reminder darkened Ciel’s mood further, bringing a familiar, bitter taste of loss with it.

“I already said that I am not going to celebrate it,” he uttered dully. “I also remember ordering you not to mention it again. Or did you forget?”

Something peculiar flickered in Sebastian’s eyes before he sent him a small smile.

“No,” he assured. “I simply wondered if you changed your mind.”

“Do I change my mind often?” 

“Young Master—”

“Leave,” Ciel demanded curtly, climbing back to his bed. “I’m going to sleep now and I don’t want to hear even one word about my birthday in the morning. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Sebastian bowed and left the room, throwing him one last strange glance.

Why did Ciel have a feeling that there was something about tomorrow he wasn’t aware of?

 

 

***

 

 

His suspicions intensified in the morning, when Sebastian took extra time to pick his outfit and hovered over him in that irritating manner of his, making sure that everything looked perfect. He was also unexpectedly quiet, to the point where it was impossible to tolerate it and say nothing.

“Sebastian.” Ciel was surprised at how calm and detached he sounded. “What have you done?”

Sebastian gave him a long, studying gaze, as if deciding whether he should confess or not. Before Ciel could snap at him in outrage for even considering disobeying, though, he said, “Madam Red has written me a letter, insisting that I organise a celebration event today. After careful consideration, I decided that it is my responsibility as a butler to ensure that you enjoy your birthday. Celebrations of this kind are common in England, so I followed Madam Red’s advice and invited her and the Midfords. They are to arrive in three hours. Additionally, I have made all preparations for a celebratory lunch — I am making your favourite—”

“Shut up,” Ciel interrupted him coldly. Sebastian fell silent. Several minutes passed in silence, with Ciel trying to breathe slowly and soothe the rage boiling in him. When he thought he could control his voice, he spoke again.

“You disobeyed me.”

“Not directly,” Sebastian said carefully, and Ciel glared at him.

“You knew very well what I meant. I stated explicitly that I don’t want to hear anything about my birthday — tell me, how does it translate to inviting all these noisy people into my house?”      

“Based on Madam Red’s letter, I came to a conclusion that birthday celebrations have always been a big event in your family. Your parents—”

“…are dead,” Ciel hissed, clenching his fists in fury. “Have been dead for a year as of today. My life has ended this day, too — I have a seal on my eye to prove it. And you think I’d want to celebrate something like this? Are you a complete idiot?”

“Young Master—”

“I accepted that you know nothing of humans — demons can’t feel any real emotions, so obviously you cannot understand them in others. But even you couldn’t possibly be this moronic! I thought you’ve made progress over this year but now I see you remained just as half-witted!”

Sebastian clenched his jaw tightly and a familiar wave of dark satisfaction welled inside Ciel.

He managed to make Sebastian angry. Not annoyed, but genuinely angry.

Not many people could boast of it.

Even less people remained alive afterwards.

Sebastian hated imperfection and he hated being imperfect in anything. He hated being called out on it even more, so Ciel added venomously, “Incompetent,” and watched how Sebastian’s face darkened further.

Good. He deserved that.

“May I remind you that it is your aunt who suggested the idea of celebration?” Sebastian said tightly, and Ciel immediately retorted.

“She doesn’t know me. You were supposed to.”

It was the right answer — something dark and possessive flared in Sebastian’s eyes, and Ciel imagined him recalling every bit of information he had gathered during this time, everything that he needed to become the perfect butler.

He was probably thinking of nightmares that Ciel still had weekly, waking up screaming — confused, scared, and disoriented. He could also be thinking of the scene he had witnessed when they made their contract, of that big, elegant room, with the smell of blood and perversion thick in the air. Or about the manor, silent and ruined after everything that had occurred inside, a shadow of what it had been once. Sebastian had restored it, but even though he managed to copy everything, down to the tiniest cracks and holes in the walls, it still wasn’t the same. Could never be the same.

No, Ciel did not want to celebrate the day that had led to the destruction of everything he had ever held dear. He didn’t want to celebrate the day of his own death, because however long his and Sebastian’s contract lasted, it was still a reprieve rather than salvation.

Even someone as emotionally dead as Sebastian had to understand this.

“Get everything ready for their arrival,” Ciel ordered roughly. “I don’t want to see you until then.”

Sebastian looked strangely stricken. He nodded silently, slowly, and Ciel waited until he left the room before letting out a sigh. He turned to his bed, staring at it unseeingly, and then he kicked it as hard as he could. Pain shot up instantly, wrapping his foot in an infuriating, throbbing blanket of pain, and Ciel hissed in frustration. Then he cursed, realising that Sebastian must have heard it, and cursed louder out of spite, deciding that at this moment, he didn’t care what Sebastian thought. Inviting Madam Red and the Midfords! What was he thinking? The whole day, which was unpleasant to begin with, was now ruined entirely.

His leg continued to throb. Ciel limped to his bed forlornly, wanting to hide among the thick blankets but knowing that he couldn’t — not unless he wanted to have to summon Sebastian once again and ask him to change his wrinkled clothes.

He couldn’t even allow himself something this small because today belonged to other people.

The noise, the boring wishes; sympathetic smiles and softly-spoken words meant to bring comfort — words that only made him uncomfortable and bitter.

Pretending to be something he wasn’t all day.

Just what his idea of fun entailed.

 

 

***

 

 

“Ciel!” Elisabeth threw himself at him before Ciel could even mutter the words of greeting, attacking him with her golden locks, the endless frills of her green dress, and with her flowery perfume all at once. Not that Ciel minded any of those separately, but definitely not when they were pushed right into his face all at once.

Clearing his throat, he murmured, “I hope your journey was pleasant.”

Elisabeth finally pulled back and started to answer when Madam Red took hold of him and hugged him tightly, cooing and refusing to let go.

“Happy birthday, Ciel!” Elisabeth exclaimed, beaming at him with innocence and sincerity that were almost painful to watch. Ciel fidgeted, torn between annoyance and an unusual protective instinct.

It confounded him that Elisabeth could stay absolutely the same after everything that happened. Logically, he knew that whatever happened to him hadn’t happened to her, so there was no reason for her to change, but still… coming to terms with it was harder than he expected.

Now, looking at her, he found himself unable to believe that just a year ago, he had been exactly like her. Carefree, joyous, naïve… happy. Blissfully happy and unaware of the evil biding its time to attack when he least expected it.

Elisabeth was a reflection of everything good that had been present in his life before that day, and Ciel felt strangely compelled to protect her, to preserve this innocence and this openness, even if he would never be able to relate to them again.

His eyes must have lingered on her because Elizabeth flushed while Madam Red smirked and winked at him knowingly. Ciel scowled before he could stop himself, nearly groaning when he realised that Elisabeth’s parents and Edward were also looking at him, having caught this embarrassing display.

“Happy birthday,” Aunt Francis said, giving him a rare smile, and then her features hardened. “Butler,” she uttered sharply. “Why are you still standing here? You should be unloading the carriage by now — there are presents for your Master there.”  

Sebastian, who had collected the heavy coats and was now standing silently, bowed.

“Right away,” he murmured. He glanced at Ciel briefly, his eyes dark and expressionless, but Ciel thought he looked troubled — to an extent.

Or maybe he just wanted him to be.

“Really, Ciel, you should fire that man. He does not correspond to the standards that the butler of the Phantomhive family must adhere to.”

“I don’t know, he corresponds to all standards of mine,” Madam Red drawled, and when Aunt Francis narrowed her eyes at her, she laughed. Her laughter sounded empty, but then again, it always did to Ciel. Maybe it was a part of her personality.

Alexis was the next in line for a hug and Ciel tolerated it, even though his lips started hurting from smiling so much.

“Ciel, promise you will open my present first!” Elisabeth implored. Ciel nodded and Edward immediately glared at him, as if agreeing to comply with his sister’s request was a mortal offense.

Ciel already felt tired of their company, even though it had only been five or seven minutes.

“Back to the butler, though,” Aunt Francis noted. “The fact that you are forced to rely on him so much bothers me, Ciel. He is clearly incapable of maintaining your family’s good name. If you want, I could use some of my connections and find a perfect butler, someone who—”

“Thank you, but I am satisfied with Sebastian’s services,” Ciel interrupted her. He knew that this _was_ a mortal offense indeed — his aunt hated being interrupted, but his own patience was short today and he wasn’t going to stand and listen to his butler being insulted. Sebastian was _his_ , and frankly, Aunt Francis was the only person not impressed with his abilities. Ciel couldn’t understand where her intense dislike was coming from.

“I like Sebastian, too,” Elisabeth joined in. “He cooks the most delicious things! That cake from several months ago was flawless, I have never tasted something like that before.”

Yes — in fact, Elisabeth had enjoyed it so much that she had eaten his portion. Ciel still felt sourly about it, and even though Sebastian had prepared an identical cake later, it still didn’t taste the same.

And where _was_ Sebastian? How long was he going to pretend unloading that carriage? It couldn’t have taken him more than several seconds.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sebastian walked back inside, smiling his usual meaningless smile.

“If you would follow me,” he said politely.

“You need more servants,” Aunt Francis grumbled as they moved towards the dining room.

“Stop harassing the poor boy, Francis,” Alexis uttered good-naturedly. Ciel pretended he hadn’t heard her, and considering Sebastian’s refusal to comment despite his tensed shoulders, he’d chosen the same option.

At least this day would be hellish not for Ciel alone.

 

 

***

 

 

Hellish was an understatement. Lunch and everything that came after were a complete and utter torture.

Elisabeth kept pestering him about presents. Aunt Francis kept pestering him about Sebastian. Madam Red kept gushing about people he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Alexis, surprisingly, was the worst — he was telling him stories about the Phantomhives, everything he knew and remembered, and Ciel just wanted him to shut up. After an hour, he felt ready to explode, so he tried to distract himself by watching Sebastian, who was tirelessly trying to be perfect despite Aunt Francis’ persistent criticism.

It was amusing. The harder Sebastian tried, the faster he moved, the more helpful he was, the more criticism Aunt Francis unleashed on him, and Ciel found it endlessly entertaining.

It didn’t mean that he appreciated such comments, though, especially when they were directed at him.

“And your outfit,” Aunt Francis was saying, frowning, eyeing him with obvious disapproval. “I understand this is your birthday, but don’t you think you’ve gone a little too far with all these…” she hesitated. “Details,” she added awkwardly, and then her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is Sebastian choosing your wardrobe for you?” 

As the matter of fact, he was, but Ciel wasn’t going to say that. He liked how he looked — otherwise, he’d have never agreed with Sebastian’s choices.

“I think Ciel looks wonderful,” Elisabeth intervened suddenly, and Aunt Francis immediately focused on her.

Using this temporary reprieve, Ciel moved aside, towards the window, staring at the falling snow. Sebastian walked to him, with the same strange hesitancy he had been demonstrating since morning.

“Young Master,” he murmured quietly. “You are limping. Have you hurt your leg?”

“No,” Ciel replied automatically.

“I could say that you are tired and see your guests out. All you have to do is order.”

“ _Your_ quests, since you were the one to invite them,” Ciel corrected him maliciously. “And no, I don’t need you to do anything. I’ve had enough of you twisting and misinterpreting my orders. Leave me alone.”

With a silent nod, Sebastian obeyed, and Ciel went back to staring at the snow.

“Nephew, what are you doing there? Come here!” Madam Red called, and Ciel fought the urge to hit his head against the window repeatedly.

They couldn’t leave soon enough.

 

 

***

 

 

When his house became blissfully quiet, Ciel finally allowed himself to relax. Anger was still simmering in him, though, so when Sebastian tried to initiate a conversation lightly, Ciel shut him down.

He continued to do so for the next several days — anger had left by then, but vindictive pleasure remained.

His coldness bothered Sebastian. Now he was absolutely sure. Sebastian didn’t deal well with rejection, so Ciel doubled his efforts, going as far as refusing to even taste the desserts that Sebastian kept making for him. As the result, Sebastian started to get more creative with his cooking, to the point where Ciel couldn’t determine if it was funny or disturbing.

Whatever Sebastian was doing, it wasn’t because he genuinely felt sorry and wanted Ciel’s forgiveness. There had to be something else here, and this something pushed Ciel’s thoughts in the darkest direction.

Sebastian had proven time and time again that he could disobey him. He had already tried to break the contract and consume his soul by tricking him. He proceeded to interpret Ciel’s orders in the way he wanted several times after that, whenever he felt like it. And if he could do that, then Ciel’s nightmares weren’t baseless. Contract or not, Sebastian could hurt him. Could betray him.

Why did he bother with being in Ciel’s good graces, then? Why was it important to him?

Could Ciel choose to end the contract because of Sebastian’s disobedience, with no personal repercussions?

He thought about it for a while, wondering if he should discuss it with Sebastian directly — and, most importantly, if he could ever actually trust the words of that slippery creature.

His leg was still hurting but at least he stopped limping, so the next day, Ciel decided to go riding. If he didn’t get tired so easily, it would be one of his favourite activities. He loved it — the sense of power he felt when riding, the way he merged with the horse entirely, making it move almost with his thoughts alone.

He had never enjoyed riding until Sebastian’s lessons.

Scowling — _why did his thoughts always turn to Sebastian?_ , Ciel picked his horse and spent some time on trying to prepare everything the way he had seen Sebastian do it. Finally, when he was more or less sure that the saddle wouldn’t move, he climbed up and froze when he heard a low chuckle.

“My, my,” Sebastian said, looking at him from the shadows. “Young Master has managed to mount the horse all by himself, without asking for help. What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“Well, it’s not like I can rely on you, can I?” Ciel snapped. He hated being taken aback. Where did Sebastian come from — was he following him around the house?

He could sense Sebastian’s displeasure without having to look at him. Then he sensed him getting closer, and this time, he did look.

Sebastian checked the saddle, tightened the tie strap, and then sent Ciel a contemplative glance.

“Would you like me to accompany you? A competition, perhaps?”

“What, are you going to ride a horse, too? I’ve never seen you on one.”

“I do not need a horse to keep up with you.”

Ciel stared at him, his mouth agape, before curling his lips in derision.

“Are you planning to run after me?” he asked in disbelief, and Sebastian smirked.

“Not _after_ you, no,” he said. “We should have a final destination in mind. Do you remember how to ride to the lake?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then it’s decided. I will meet you there.”

 “And how is that supposed to be entertaining? You will just use your demonic powers and reach that lake even before I leave the stables. No, it has to be a real competition.”

“Such as?”

“You will choose a medium speed and you will try to avoid collision with my horse. I will try to trample you.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to stare at him in disbelief.

“You will try to trample me,” he repeated. “That is certainly… novel. However, I do not think that your horse will comply. Horses do not trample people unless trained for it specifically.”

“Oh,” Ciel frowned in disappointment. He still wasn’t sure what to do about mindless aggression that kept burning in him whenever he thought of the long list of Sebastian’s betrayals — small, but betrayals nonetheless. A chance to see him physically hurt, to test his own reaction, was intriguing, especially after the last incident where he had only embarrassed himself.

He didn’t care if Sebastian was hurt. He would prove it — now or later, but he would. This time, he would react differently.  

“In that case, I won’t be needing your company,” Ciel announced. Without waiting for a reply, he directed his horse forward, leaving Sebastian behind.

As it turned out, it wasn’t for long. Soon, his peripheral vision caught something dark moving alongside his horse, and when he glanced there, he saw Sebastian who was… running? sliding?... on his level easily, without even looking where he was going, too busy watching Ciel.

“What are you doing?” Ciel shouted at him, his voice fighting the strength of the wind. “Stop that. I told you I don’t want your company.”

“I’m afraid you will have to make it into a direct order,” Sebastian said without pausing. “To me, this looks like a good time for some running.”

“You look ridiculous. Stop it,” Ciel said again, but he couldn’t help but check if Sebastian was still keeping up with him.

It did look ridiculous. The speed and effortlessness of Sebastian’s movements were unnatural, his legs and his hands were moving so quickly that it was difficult to tell them apart. After watching him for a while, Ciel started to feel surreal because Sebastian was blurring into one impossible picture, and he wasn’t sure if he found it spooky or funny.

“Will you stop? What if someone sees this?” he asked, and to his mortification, his lips began to tremble from barely supressed laughter.

Sebastian must have noticed it — he always noticed everything. His smirk grew smugger and he managed to somehow shake his head without breaking pace.

“I will sense if there is anyone in the vicinity, Master,” he said.  “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” Ciel huffed, and it was true. He wasn’t worried — he was amused. Perhaps even… happy? The wind kept ruffling his hair, the cold, crisp air burned his lungs in the most delightful way, and the blurring image of Sebastian’s limbs was still too funny to keep a serious expression. Ciel laughed, genuinely and too loudly for the sound to be decent. He saw how Sebastian’s smirk softened to a smile in response.

“It is too cold for you to be inhaling so much winter air,” he noted. “Maybe it is time to take a break?”

Ciel started to answer when Sebastian suddenly tripped over something. It lasted for half a second only — he found a balance again immediately, but Ciel noticed and his eyes widened incredulously.

“You tripped!” he exclaimed, the excited disbelief clear in his voice. “Aunt Francis was right — you are clumsy!”

At such speed, he couldn’t properly read Sebastian’s expression — then again, maybe it was just blank.

“I am not,” Sebastian said, and the dignity he tried to convey would have been more effective if he wasn’t still moving like a crazed, blurry toy. “I do not trip.”

“You just did! You were too busy nagging at me to pay attention to where you are going!”

“Unlike humans, I experience no difficulties when doing several things at once.”

“Liar,” Ciel rolled his eyes. Sebastian glowered, his eyes flashing red suddenly, and Ciel’s horse jerked, letting out a frightened screech. A moment — and Ciel went flying, his heart jumping to his throat from the unexpectedness of it. There was no fear, though — as if his mind was confident that he would be saved.

He wasn’t disappointed — Sebastian caught him before he landed and cradled him to his chest.

“You really are useless,” Ciel muttered with a sigh. He wasn’t in a hurry to pull away — despite being a demon, Sebastian was warm, or at least warmer than the air around them. It was comforting. It was nice.

“I did not let you come to any harm, did I?” Sebastian objected.

“You were the reason why my horse threw me off its back in the first place.”

“You should have held on, Young Master — didn’t I teach you how? Perhaps we need more lessons.”

“Perhaps not,” Ciel told him. “What I would like to do instead is to discuss our contract.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow in obvious curiosity.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. I would like to know why you allow yourself to disobey me and how much farther your disobedience could stretch.”

As soon as he said it, relief and trepidation filled him and Ciel fell silent, waiting for the answer.

It felt good to finally ask Sebastian directly, after all time he’d spent wondering, distressed and unsure.

Granted, Sebastian could lie again… but if he did, Ciel hoped he would be able to catch it.

“I do not disobey you,” Sebastian said finally. Ciel expected him to put him down already, but as Sebastian continued to hold him and it was warmer this way, he didn’t protest. “My first goal is to protect your interests, even if you might not see it this way at the time.”

“Your goal is to protect my life, not my interests,” Ciel pointed out. “And even if you were concerned about it, how is organising my birthday celebration relevant?”

“There are different ways of interpreting orders,” Sebastian said vaguely and Ciel fought the impulse to growl at him. Then, remembering he was a Watchdog, he did growl, and Sebastian’s surprised and disturbed face became more than a sufficient reward.

“Sebastian,” Ciel stared at him intently, and suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “I order you to give me direct, comprehensive, honest answers to the questions I am going to ask.”

Sebastian didn’t like it — Ciel could see it in the slight stiffening of his posture, in how his eyes darkened visibly.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, his voice reluctant, and Ciel grinned sombrely.

“Good,” he uttered. “Question one. Can you hurt me physically, despite being in a contract with me? Deliberately?”

“Yes,” Sebastian replied evenly, and Ciel froze, his nightmares rising to the surface with the terrifying speed. Sebastian didn’t look away. His eyes were getting redder and crueller, and Ciel’s lungs constricted in panic. A cold chill poured down his spine and he tried not to shiver, not to look away from the danger that he suddenly found himself in.

However, when Ciel blinked, Sebastian’s eyes were back to normal, and when he spoke, his voice was its usual mild self.

“Contract or not, I could hurt you. I could even kill you. However, I will not, because it would mean that I wouldn’t be able to touch your soul. This is an unacceptable outcome for me. I swore to protect you until you fulfil your revenge and I will do that. So you can rest in peace, Young Master.”

Rest in peace?

This time, Ciel did shiver, and Sebastian tightened his arms around him in a deceptively caring gesture.

“So… question two,” Ciel cleared his throat, trying to chase the fear away. “If you break my orders, I can break the contract? With no consequences?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Sebastian smiled and Ciel tensed again, recognising this lips-parted, fangs-glistening smile as a dangerous one. “You may indeed break the contract, and if the reason is valid, such as my disobedience, then I wouldn’t be able to consume your soul. However, I would also be under no obligation to protect you. Therefore…” Sebastian let his words linger meaningfully.

“Therefore, you will just kill me,” Ciel concluded. “One way or another, I won’t escape alive.”

“No,” Sebastian admitted, still smiling enigmatically, and Ciel lowered his eyes, focusing on the buttons of Sebastian’s frock coat.

He knew it, it wasn’t a revelation, yet still, strange melancholy seized his heart.

How long would he live? How many years waited for him until his death?

He and Sebastian had already spent eleven months together. Eleven months… on the one hand, it seemed like a fairly short amount of time, but on the other, Ciel felt as if he’d been living like this forever. During these elven months, he learned and managed to accomplish more than he had in all previous years of his life.

It was something. Now, even with him gone, he would leave something behind — Funtom Corporation, a few stories of his victory over the underworld members… Knowledge that he did not sully his family’s name and continued performing his duties in a satisfying manner.

The melancholy didn’t dissipate but Ciel still brightened.

He was never going to celebrate his birthday again, but maybe, if forced, he could celebrate the success he had achieved — the eleven months, and then a year and eleven months, and possibly more since he had summoned Sebastian and changed weakness into power. Celebrating death didn’t make sense, but celebrating revenge, even a slow-burn one… it was something else entirely. The only thing Ciel had to do was to stop focusing on his fears and pay attention to revenge only.

He would have died on the table in that terrible place if he hadn’t summoned his demon. Sebastian had given him more time, but the outcome remained the same, and wasn’t it what Ciel wanted?

Yes. Yes, it was. He just had to remember it and not succumb to weakness and this childish fear again. It was beneath him. Ciel would repeat it as many times as needed until it was finally engraved in his mind. And if Sebastian did break the contract and killed him sooner than they agreed, then he would still have his revenge, only on Sebastian — because Sebastian wouldn’t be able to eat his soul. It was better than nothing.    

“I have the last question,” Ciel said when Sebastian started walking back to the house, following Ciel’s horse and still cradling him in his arms. “Why are you so particular about my clothing? I haven’t thought about it before Aunt Francis’s words, but it is obvious that she finds my wardrobe lacking or inappropriate in some way and I was wondering why. I do not really know much about such things, and some people did compliment me on how I look, but I still wonder. Have you been making fun of me all this time? Do you dress me so I would look stupid?”

“I dress you so you would look beautiful,” Sebastian told him. “And you do. I enjoy knowing that my meal is appealing in every way possible.”

“Oh,” was all that Ciel managed to murmur. He pressed closer to Sebastian, seeking out his warmth, thinking about what he’d just heard.

Had Sebastian just called him beautiful?

It felt nice, knowing that. Ciel wasn’t sure why — Madam Red always made praising remarks about his physical appearance, and Elisabeth did, too. It never meant anything. But somehow, coming from Sebastian, it was different. Embarrassing, but not in a bad way.

Content, Ciel closed his eyes, hoping to keep the warm glow in his chest for at least some time to come.   


	6. Hiring. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm so endlessly sorry for the looong delay with updating. To think that I actually hoped to update sooner this time! I've gone through many changes during these last two months, including losing a job and finding another one. There were more good changes than bad, but being a person who hates changes in any form and shape, it affected me quite a lot. I hate the whole adjusting period. Anyway, everything's fine now)
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and for your patience! We're finally getting closer to the start of S1 :)

“Young Master, I thought we have planned to focus on four specific lines of production for the nearest future. Are you sure that you want to introduce the new type of sweets _now_? In the middle of the winter?”

Ciel narrowed his eyes, knowing that it would tell Sebastian all that he needed to know. There was a pause and then Sebastian spoke again, in a voice that could barely hide how annoyed he was.

“And you’d like to choose peach as a main flavour?”

“Yes,” Ciel snapped. “And to stop you from asking more inane questions, yes, you will have to go and find these peaches. Having a demon for a butler provides me with a great opportunity to get ahead of our competitors. Not everyone can find fruits like peaches in winter, and even less people would be able to afford them. So go and locate a trustworthy supplier.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian said, and even though his face didn’t change, Ciel could clearly see the minuscule signs of irritation. Honestly, Sebastian was absolutely transparent at times and there was nothing Ciel loved more than winding him up deliberately .

“Sebastian,” he said when his demon reached the door. Sebastian actually froze before turning, probably thinking his face expressed nothing.

“Yes?”

“It has to be _a lot_ of peaches.”   

This time, Ciel almost won a glare. He smirked as he watched Sebastian leave, but as the door closed, he couldn’t help but wonder what’d gotten into him today.

Sebastian rarely allowed himself to demonstrate his displeasure with Ciel’s orders with such clarity. And why? He couldn’t be that against launching a new line of sweets. It seemed like he was reluctant to leave, and if he was a human, Ciel would understand. Merely looking at the blizzard outside made him shiver. But Sebastian was a demon. Surely taking a trip wasn’t that much of a hardship?

Sighing, Ciel looked at his table, staring at the pile of unopened letters. He loved Funtom, and he started to enjoy and even anticipate the cases Her Majesty assigned to him, but sometimes, the amount of correspondence that came with it was positively frustrating. Now that he had proven that he was a force to be reckoned with, everyone suddenly wanted to be his friend, to ask him for financial support and sponsorship. Half of these beggars were frauds who hoped he was either soft-hearted enough to buy into their sob-stories or greedy so as to invest into companies that didn’t even exist in the blind hope to gain profits.

Idiots.

With another sigh, Ciel started to work, turning to glance into the window every now and then.

He wondered if Sebastian was going to find the peaches in some greenhouses in London. Or would he have to go to Asia, or India, or wherever peaches could be growing at this time of the year?

Briefly, Ciel toyed with the idea of waiting for Sebastian’s return only to send him after some apricots immediately afterwards, but then he discarded it.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he felt calmer with Sebastian by his side. And tormenting him at home, still making him pay for that disastrous birthday party, was much more fun than sending him places.

The floorboards right behind the door suddenly creaked. The sound lasted for a half a second only but it was enough to make Ciel tense, to send coldness down his spine.

It could be nothing. His house was old, full of strange yet perfectly explainable sounds, and if Ciel had reacted to each of them, he would be jumping and flinching all the time.

But he reacted to this sound. Irrational or not, after _that_ day, Ciel tried to listen to his instincts. And right now, they were telling him to hide.

Not letting himself think for long, trying not to imagine Sebastian’s face if it was him behind the door, Ciel dived under the table, and the next second, the door opened.

He couldn’t see much of anything from here but he sensed how someone stepped into the room. Then an unfamiliar voice spoke, “He’s not here. Damn it! We should check other rooms.”

“There are too many of them. What if his servants see us?”

“He doesn’t have servants, Robert, I told you. There’s only his butler and an old man. We’ll take care of them easily. Ashton has already gone to check the kitchen.”

Panic and anger gripped Ciel instantly, twisting him inside out.

The intruders. Some strangers who came here to hurt him, _again_. And now they were also planning to hurt Tanaka?

Tanaka was strong, especially for someone his age. Ciel knew he could fight — he had fought the attackers on that fateful night, but he had lost, ended up with a knife in his back. He was still recovering and Ciel doubted he’d be able to deal with the intruders now. He didn’t even know how many of them were here.

Gritting his teeth, Ciel thought, ‘ _Sebastian. Sebastian, I need help. Come here right now_.’

His mark reacted, but who knew how long it would take for Sebastian to respond to his summons? He’d left about forty minutes ago. With his powers, he could be on the other end of the world now, and even he wouldn’t be able to cross this distance in five minutes.

Which meant that Ciel had to come up with his own plans.

Escaping wouldn’t be difficult, these morons didn’t even bother to check the rooms properly, but what about Tanaka? Ciel couldn’t just leave him. He had to distract at least a part of the attackers, to drag everything out for as much as possible, until Sebastian came.

Making sure that there were no more sounds near the door, Ciel crept out from under the table and moved towards the kitchen. He knew his house enough to move soundlessly, bypassing the potentially dangerous places.

The closer he approached, the more sounds he heard. A loud crash and a pained cry of a stranger made Ciel speed up, but when another crash was accompanied by Tanaka’s groan, he broke into a run. Anger flared up, making the fear retreat temporarily, pushing him forward without caring about the noise he was making.

He stopped several feet away from the kitchen, thinking rapidly.

He wouldn’t last long in a fight, if at all. He wasn’t very good at running either, but he had an advantage of knowing the house.

It would have to suffice.

“Hey!” he shouted loudly. “I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek. What kind of amateurs are you? I’ve been following you all around the house and you failed to even notice it!”

Ciel didn’t wait for the reaction. As soon as he uttered the last syllable, he dashed along the corridor, hearing indignant and triumphant yells behind.

He hoped the majority would forget about Tanaka and take a chance to catch him. After all, he was the reason they came here.

And where was this damned demon? How much more time did he need?

Very soon, Ciel realised he’d underestimated the intruders. They were much faster than him, they followed him so closely that he couldn’t even pick a room to hide inside without it being noticed, and the distance between them was getting shorter by the moment.

Feeling that his heart was starting to protest against the strain, Ciel threw himself into one of the rooms on the second floor, slamming the door shut. He had about forty seconds, maybe a minute before the attackers broke the door, so he rushed to the window, opened it and shivered when the cold wind crashed into him.

The height wasn’t too big but Ciel still hesitated, wondering if he should jump straight into the snow or try to land on the first-floor window canopy first.

The door shook under the rain of blows, and Ciel grimaced, imagining how it would feel to be beaten with such force. Was he destined to go through the same experiences over and over again?

He jumped, not allowing himself to think any longer. Hitting the canopy, he cried out from the impact and hissed when more coldness brushed against him as he slipped down, falling right into the bank of snow.

His back was aching angrily when Ciel stood up and ran to the maze decorating the territory. It wasn’t vast or tricky enough to fool his attackers, but maybe it could work.

If only it wasn’t this cold.

Ciel took a series of turns he used to take when he and Elisabeth were playing their own version of hide-and-seek, feeling how his teeth began to chatter. By the time he reached his usual hiding spot, he was violently cold. He put his hands around himself, trying to keep the warmth, but it was quickly seeping through his fingers, bringing even more coldness in its stead.

He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hide here, in the snow. Coldness was his curse, and if he got out of this mess alive, he would definitely be sick for several days, if he was lucky, or for weeks if his body let him down again.

It was a usual occurrence, him always getting sick, always being weaker. Another reason why making a contract with a demon wasn’t such a bad idea.

Two shots pierced the silence suddenly, followed by screams. They weren’t the terrified, Sebastian-is-having-fun kinds of screams, though, so Ciel remained where he was, trying to imagine what was happening. Could those idiots shoot one another by accident? Then again, it was probably too much to hope for.

For a minute or so, there was silence again, and then the screams, the _real_ screams came. Hearing terror on the verge of insanity in them, Ciel smiled in bliss, knowing exactly what it meant.

Sebastian had finally arrived.

Took him long enough.

By the time Ciel forced his numb legs to move, the screams had only gained volume. By the time he found a way out of the maze, they finally stopped.

Cold retreated for a second when Ciel saw Sebastian standing next to dismembered bodies, watching them dispassionately. Despite his calm look, his eyes were flaring bright red and his lips were parted in a fierce snarl. When he reacted to Ciel’s appearance by turning to look at him, the snarl stayed, but Ciel was too happy to think about wariness.

“F-finally,” he said, though his teeth were chattering so loudly that he barely managed to push the words out. “I g-got tired of w-waiting.”

His voice seemed to wake Sebastian from his blood-soaked slumber because he blinked and then moved to him in one speedy motion, grabbing him protectively.

“Y-you should c-check if T-Tanaka’s okay,” Ciel murmured, but he already wrapped his hands around Sebastian’s neck, snuggling closer to him, shivering hard when the first weak flickers of warmth started to course through his body. “Where… W-where the hell... were you?” he asked. “I excpe… expe…” Frustrated with himself, he stopped talking and just sighed, tightening his grip around Sebastian.

He didn’t even notice how they moved to the house, and then to his room. When Ciel looked at Sebastian again, he saw that his lips were moving, meaning that he was obviously saying something, but even when he tried, he couldn’t recognise a sound. His eyelids felt heavy and his body was still trembling, so he closed his eyes, knowing that he was safe, and that whatever was happening to Tanaka, Sebastian would see to it.

It was good to have such a competent butler, late as he was.

 

 

***

 

 

“This is unacceptable, Sebastian,” Tanaka was saying, and Ciel forced himself to open his eyes because he had never heard his ex-butler sound so upset. “Young lord could be seriously hurt. He already was, you know his health is very weak.”

“I’ve managed to reduce his fever,” Sebastian replied. “In terms of–”

To Ciel’s amazement, Tanaka actually interrupted him.

“It should have never happened. The Phantomhive servants are supposed to protect their Masters, not have their Masters protect them! I believe it is time to expand the household.”

“There is no need to—”

“Sebastian, I know you are very capable. The boy also trusts you, and Lord knows, after everything he’s been through, it’s a miracle. But we still need more servants for the times when you’re away. We cannot allow the situation to repeat itself.”

More servants?

Ciel frowned, unsure how he felt about it. He appreciated the quiet and exclusive world he had built for himself, with Sebastian as his only constant companion and with Tanaka making brief appearances. Having more unfamiliar people here would be extremely bothersome.

On the other hand, Tanaka was right. If Sebastian was away… If both of them were away on business, someone had to protect the house. It wasn’t right to expect Tanaka to do it.

But more people… how could he ever trust them to act in his interests?

Conflicted, Ciel felt how the sleep crept closer again, and then he gave into it, deciding to leave all decisions for when he woke up.

 

The first thing he saw upon waking was Sebastian who was sitting by his side patiently, with a small frown on his face.

“Welcome back, Master,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Did you find the peaches supplier?” Ciel asked sleepily, ignoring the question. It was bad enough that he was confined to bed once again. He wasn’t going to waste more time on pointless discussions.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Sebastian replied. “Although you are not in the state to evaluate my choice. You have a severe cold along with nasal congestion. You won’t be able to sense any flavours for at least—”

“I understand!” Ciel snapped, shifting and sitting up. “All right. But I’m not going to allow you to proceed without my approval, so the new line of candies will have to wait.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian raised his eyebrow, as if to demonstrate he couldn’t care less. Then his eyes narrowed speculatively. “If I may ask, what were you thinking when you decided to distract the criminals and run outside, in the cold, without proper clothing? Such reckless behaviour seems out of character for you, Young Master.”

“I overheard that they were going to target Tanaka.”

“Oh?” When Sebastian’s eyes narrowed further, for the first time since he woke up, Ciel understood that he was treading on thin ice. His still-clouded mind cleared in a sudden surge of panic as he recognised the warning notes in Sebastian’s voice.

He was doing something wrong. He was doing something wrong and he didn’t know what, and he had to figure it out before Sebastian understood he was clueless.

“I was under the impression,” Sebastian continued, “that your primary concern lies with your revenge. For it to happen, you need to stay alive and preferably healthy. How does your strange attempt to defend a servant fit here? Why would you risk yourself to help him? I don’t understand.”

Stupid demon. Stupid demon who despised weakness and foolishness and whose respect had to be constantly earned.

Sebastian wouldn’t appreciate a foolish, noble attempt at self-sacrifice. Ciel couldn’t explain it properly even to himself, he just knew that he had to help Tanaka. He had to, because… because. Tanaka was a part of his life that he didn’t want to lose. Tanaka belonged to him like Elisabeth belonged to him. Despite his strength in the past, he was vulnerable after the attack, and at that moment, Ciel viewed him as someone needing his protection.  

But Sebastian wouldn’t understand. And Ciel couldn’t afford to alienate him. The mere thought made his heart freeze in fear.

“As a head of Phantomhive house, I’m responsible for my servants’ well-being,” he said loftily, hoping Sebastian couldn’t hear how wildly his heart was beating. “Sentiments that you imply have nothing to do with it. Tanaka is useful, he has more knowledge about this house and about my predecessor’s dealings than I currently do. If I hadn’t intervened, he would have been killed. Granted, I wasn’t going to risk my life. I expected you to come at any moment because protecting _me_ is _your_ responsibility, Sebastian. Therefore, I simply bought Tanaka some time. It’s unfortunate that I got sick, but I believe I will benefit from the end-result eventually.”

Sebastian tilted his head, obviously thinking about it, and Ciel allowed himself a tiny breath.

“Actually, I expected you to come sooner,” he added shortly. “Before I managed to freeze and get a cold.”

“Your health is even more fragile than that of most humans. You would have gotten a cold even if you spent a minute outside, in such weather and without your coat.”

Ciel snorted to show the extent of his contempt to Sebastian’s insinuations, even though he knew he couldn’t argue here.

“You should have still come sooner,” he announced moodily.

“I was following your initial order,” Sebastian reminded him. “And if Young Master recalls, I was reluctant to leave. We have just finished another case for the Queen. You know that the manor tends to be attacked shortly afterwards.”

“Yes, I do know. But I’m not going to let it affect my plans. So, I think Tanaka was right to suggest hiring more people.”

Sebastian looked surprised.

“I didn’t realise you could hear us,” he said, frowning as if the thought displeased him. Was he annoyed that he’d been loud enough to disturb him or that Ciel had learned about Tanaka’s suggestion before Sebastian could tell him himself? “Regardless,” Sebastian continued, “I have to agree as well. The house of Phantomhives cannot consist of two servants only. While you were resting, I’ve done a research and composed the profiles of potential candidates for you to look at. Ultimately, though, the decision has to be yours. After all, I’m merely your pawn.”

“I’m perfectly aware of it,” Ciel said. “And fine. Bring them here.”

While he waited, he could feel his confidence return to him.

Sebastian was indeed his pawn, which meant that Ciel was in control. Bad health or not, occasional sentimentality that he hoped to get rid of or not, he was in charge and he was going to act like it.

When Sebastian returned, Ciel accepted the profiles gracefully, wondering what Sebastian’s choice of good servants would be. He checked the first one, scoffed, went to look at the second one. Then the third. After the fourth, he threw the files away in exasperation.

“Do you honestly think that some thugs are going to be a good addition to our household?”   

“Thugs?” Sebastian wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “I admit that they aren’t the best examples of humanity, but they possess considerable physical strength and experience. Lau highly recommended them.”

“Lau!” Ciel exclaimed. “He’s our contact in the underworld, not a reliable source of recommendations for something like this! We don’t need some brutes who will try to steal my silverware or cut my throat in my sleep after a month of service! I expected better of you, Sebastian. A decision to let someone into the house on a permanent basis is extremely serious. We have to consider all angles and understand what we need before starting searching.”

“I thought what we need is already clear,” Sebastian said patiently, his voice so condescending that for a second, Ciel wanted to hit him. “Someone to protect the house if the need arises and to help with chores.”

“To help with chores?” Ciel snorted mockingly. “What, are you telling me you can’t cope with them by yourself?”

Sebastian pursed his lips, looking so insulted that Ciel almost laughed.

“I meant for the times when we are away,” Sebastian said icily. “The house should be looked after in all ways, at all times.”

Sometimes riling him up was too easy.

“Fine,” Ciel said. “But of course, the primary attribute should be their defence abilities.”

“Finding trained, physically strong humans shouldn’t be a problem, even among _non-thugs_. If you are dissatisfied with my choice, I’ll compose another—”

“Physical strength is only one attribute, Sebastian. I told you, I don’t need brutes here. There are many other abilities that could be useful.”

“Such as?”

“Well,” Ciel paused for a moment, trying to quickly come up with something. “Speed,” he offered. “Extraordinary hearing. Military precision. Even something like highly developed intuition might help. And above all, I need loyalty.”

“We will compensate them, of course,” Sebastian suggested but Ciel shook his head.

“No. Compensation cannot buy loyalty, at least not the type I would trust. For these servants to be loyal, we must offer them something else. Something more.”

Sebastian was looking increasingly ruffled at having his ideas discarded, but at the same time, his eyes were alight with genuine curiosity. With a start, Ciel realised that Sebastian was enjoying their conversation despite being unable to understand the main points.

Maybe he was enjoying it _because_ of it. Sebastian was a strange demon.

“Such as?” he repeated.

This time, it took Ciel longer to think of an answer.

“We must offer them a home,” he said finally. Sebastian arched his eyebrow sceptically.

“Young Master, do you want me to look for people with defence abilities among the homeless?”

“No!” Ciel yelled and coughed, wincing as it echoed painfully through his body. “No,” he said again. “You don’t understand. People aren’t loyal by default if you fulfil their financial needs. But if they truly like you, if they care about you, they will be ready to do anything to help you. So we have to target emotionally vulnerable people.”

“Those who feel miserable,” Sebastian said slowly. “Those who don’t feel appreciated by others.”

“Those who would like to change their lives,” Ciel nodded. “Yes. That’d be the most logical course of actions.”

“I will start the new search immediately,” Sebastian stood up, his eyes still glistening in excitement. “Almost immediately,” he amended after glancing at Ciel. “First, I will bring your medicine. Also, you need to eat, Young Master.”

“There is no rush. I’m not going to send you anywhere for the time being, anyway.”

Sebastian looked disappointed, but then his face evened out and he bowed.

“Yes, my lord,” he said.

 

 

***

 

 

“Edward is unstable.”

“He corresponds to the parameters you have set, Master.”

“He might have been falsely accused of a crime he didn’t commit, but his reputation after his release is shaky at best. He attacked two of his employers. That’s saying something.”

“He could have been placed into position to defend himself.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Also, his name is _Edward_. In my experience, all people carrying this name hate me. Considering all these flaws, I’m not going to hire him.”

Ciel expected Sebastian to keep arguing, but he only sighed and glanced mournfully at the profile he was holding.

They had spent four days on sorting through the candidates. Ciel had no idea where Sebastian found them all, but he had to admit that this time, it was closer to what he envisioned. 

If only Sebastian wasn’t this focused on physically strong and mentally unhinged individuals. What did it say about him, to be fascinated with the most unstable people? And what did it say about Ciel that he found it funny rather than disturbing?

“What about Baldroy?” Sebastian asked, pushing the file across the table. Ciel looked through it, and the more he read, the more suspicious he felt.

“He seems surprisingly normal,” he commented dryly. “Especially in comparison to others you have found so far. But what’s so special about him? He’s just a soldier.”

“A soldier who was the only survivor in the last three campaigns. Surely you don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Sebastian retorted, and even though Ciel hated being argued with, he chose to let it go.

Sebastian was acting bolder these last few days, at least during their discussions. Ciel would have warned him against it but for some reason, he enjoyed the atmosphere of easy camaraderie that reigned in his office. Sebastian was so focused on their task that he forgot himself occasionally, arguing and pushing, and Ciel simply watched, amused, without saying anything.

Sebastian treated him like an equal in these discussions, forgetting his age, forgetting their status. While Ciel held the power in their agreement, he couldn’t delude himself by thinking that it would last. Sebastian might be his pawn, but it was temporary. The truth was, Sebastian was much stronger, much smarter, and much colder than Ciel could ever hope to become. And being treated like an equal, feeling Sebastian’s respect, knowing that Sebastian seriously considered his thoughts instead of merely indulging him was so addictive that Ciel was willing to overlook these brief displays of impertinence. For now.     

“You mentioned the extraordinary intuition as one of the abilities you were interested in, Young Master,” Sebastian said. “Besides, Baldroy has a personal history similar to what you’ve described. His house was destroyed in one of the military raids. His family was murdered and after this, he couldn’t find a place to settle. He willingly joined the military, presumably to affect the decisions his generals make and to avoid the destruction of civilians’ villages. However, even though he’s rumoured to be a skilled fighter, he isn’t popular among others because of his straightforwardness and insubordination. It appears that his generals try to get rid of him by throwing him into the most violent and dangerous spots. Baldroy was still alive when I checked it, and I believe he would be a valuable asset.”

“You just said that he was insubordinate,” Ciel pointed out and watched how a thin, cunning smile touched Sebastian’s lips.

“Perhaps he has simply been in the employ of inferior commanders,” he uttered. “In addition, if there is an attack, Baldroy will be able to group other servants. He has good leadership skills and experience.”

“I’ll think about him,” Ciel relented, glancing at the profile and putting it to his left. “Who else?”

 “Mey-Rin. She’s a professional sniper and an assassin known for her extreme visual acuity. There are myths made up about her vision — however, she has a disadvantage. Her vision is the only attribute she can boast of and she’s soft-hearted to a degree, which makes her an unreliable assassin. She cannot always kill her targets, not if she finds something likable about them.”

“Well, what if she finds something likeable about those who attack my house?” Ciel demanded.

Sebastian shrugged.

“The majority of her victims do end up dead, so I doubt it would be an issue.”

“Having a sniper with acute vision could be just what we need,” Ciel glanced at Mey-Rin’s profile again. Someone who could see the danger from afar was invaluable, he had to give Sebastian credit for this one. “Since you’ve picked her, I take it she’s also emotionally vulnerable?”

“Her story certainly isn’t the healthiest,” Sebastian agreed. “She had a complicated childhood. She had to work from the early age to support her mother and siblings, which pushed her to becoming an assassin when she was thirteen. As I said, it was the only thing she was good at. Her mother and her siblings are all dead now, and while she has a chance to live for herself, she continues to work aimlessly. She doesn’t even touch the money she earns for the most part. She’s not a smart human, but she has potential.”

 “If her eyesight is that good, it might pose a problem because she’ll be able to see every little detail,” Ciel frowned thoughtfully. “She would also probably notice how your eyes change shades. If we are going to hire her, we will have to come up with something to temper with her vision, at least on a temporary basis. She can’t know the truth, none of them can.”   

“So, you are considering hiring her?” Sebastian’s face brightened, as if he was pleased with finally picking someone Ciel approved of.

“She has the abilities I need, she’s a killer, and she longs to belong somewhere. Yes, I think she’ll be a good fit.”

“Excellent,” in his excited anticipation, Sebastian moved so quickly that Ciel didn’t even catch how he went from sitting on the opposite side of the table to standing next to the door. “If you approve of her candidature, then I’ll contact her immediately and offer her a position.”

“Wait,” Ciel stopped him. He wasn’t sure what he had in mind yet, but he knew he wanted to check everything before hiring anyone, especially an assassin. “First, let’s devise a test for her.”   

“A test?” Sebastian stepped back to him, intrigued.

“I want you to hire her. Pick somebody innocent as her target. For example, some happily married man. Make sure Mey-Rin sees him interact with his family. If she shoots him without hesitation, we will have to re-consider hiring her. If she refuses to pull the trigger, we’ll also have to re-evaluate her candidature. However, if she hesitates and then still tries to do her work… then you can offer her a position.”

“That’s an interesting test,” Sebastian said slowly, and Ciel nodded, secretly bathing in the waves of approval he could feel emanate from Sebastian. “I’ll make sure it’s done right away, Master.”

Sebastian turned back to the door, this time with a normal, human speed, and Ciel suddenly realised that he had possibly sentenced an innocent man to death.

What if Mey-Rin pulled the trigger? What if Sebastian failed to stop her? Sebastian loved sadistic games. He would enjoy it if Ciel became responsible for the death of an innocent, especially if Ciel felt upset about it.

But he couldn’t stop him now, could he? Sebastian would view it as weakness again. Ciel was already on a shaky ground with him after what happened with Tanaka.

He clenched his jaw, burning Sebastian’s back with his eyes, and then he commanded sharply, “Sebastian!”

When the demon turned back again, Ciel cleared his throat. Who cared what Sebastian thought? There were boundaries that Ciel wasn’t willing to cross.

“No matter what decision Mey-Rin makes,” he said, “don’t let that man die. It’s an order.”

The surprise that flashed across Sebastian’s face was undeniable and Ciel cringed, understanding that Sebastian hadn’t even considered toying with him, at least not now.

Still, he made sure to keep his gaze hard and unrelenting, and Sebastian bowed.

“As you wish, my lord,” he replied tonelessly.

 


	7. Hiring. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and support! It fuels my love for this fandom even further. I apologize for the long wait and I'm happy to say that the next chapters will be published much more quickly :) I'm nearly finished with my work and I'm going to take quite a long break. 
> 
> WARNING: despite the harmless title, this chapter is pretty dark because it features mentions of child rape, drugging, and child death. Nothing detailed, but still, proceed with caution. The next chapter (the final of the 'Hiring' cycle) will be even darker.

Ciel spent the first night with Mey-Rin in his house carefully planning how much he was going to disclose to her.

He had to found the perfect centre. He had to appear strong but give her a glimpse of vulnerability; use only general facts, but make them sufficient to secure her sympathy.

When Sebastian brought her to his office, Ciel was prepared.

  Mey-Rin was already wearing the glasses he had purchased for her and they obviously affected her vision — maybe more so than Ciel had intended. As soon as she stepped inside, she tripped and fell, and Sebastian grabbed her before her face connected with the floor, holding her strongly.

When Mey-Rin finally saw him, her jaw dropped. A strange squeak escaped her and Ciel sent an unsure glance towards Sebastian who shrugged almost apologetically.

Well. They had chosen her themselves and it was too late to reconsider. 

“Mey-Rin,” Ciel said. “My name is Ciel Phantomhive. I’m pleased that you have agreed to work for me.”

“I... that is, yes!” Mey-Rin made a step toward him only to trip again, and this time, Ciel frowned.

“Perhaps we need to get you better glasses,” he said. “It wasn’t my intention to leave you blind. Sebastian?”

Before Sebastian could react, though, Mey-Rin exclaimed, “Oh no, I don’t need new glasses, not at all! These are, these are lovely, I can adjust to them with no problem. I understand why you want me to wear them. I’m just nervous. I’ve never worked as a maid before and this house is so big and beautiful, it absolutely is! And you, Master… I imagined you differently. I never thought you’d be so young!”

Ciel scowled and glared at Sebastian who was audacious enough to smirk.

Maybe this time, he could let such a remark pass. At least Mey-Rin pushed the conversation in the direction he needed.

“Unfortunately, the circumstances placed me in a position that I wasn’t ready for,” he said, allowing a note of softness to touch his voice. He could feel Sebastian’s interested gaze and annoying as it was, he still found it encouraging. “My family was murdered two years ago. I was the only one left.”

“Oh!” Even though Ciel couldn’t see her eyes behind the thick glasses, he still noted how Mey-Rin’s lower lip trembled and how her voice was already full of empathy.

Just like he’d thought.

“I had to accept the title and the responsibilities that came with it,” he continued. “My goal is to make sure that Her Majesty’s concerns are eliminated before they gain the power to grow. As the result, I’ve made quite a few enemies in the underworld. Sebastian manages to deal with the majority but he can’t always win against them all.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed and Ciel barely hid a smirk of his own.

Served him right.

“That’s why I need your help,” Ciel stepped closer to Mey-Rin, trying to portray absolute sincerity. “I know you also had a family. I know they were taken from you. You have none of your own enemies left but you’re still frustrated and restless. Your previous job didn’t let you decide who deserved to live and who didn’t, you had to kill even those who might have been innocent.”

“It was terrible.” This time, Mey-Rin’s voice trembled as well. “The things they wanted me to do… the things I did! God will never forgive me for it. I knew and I stayed, and I—”

“Who needs His forgiveness?” Ciel scoffed before he could stop himself. ‘God’. What a joke. “Only your own forgiveness matters. When you forgive yourself, you’ll become free, but to do that, you have to remove yourself from the environment that only contributed to your unhappiness.” 

   Mey-Rin pressed her hands against her face, and though Ciel couldn’t see her eyes, he sensed that she was on the verge of crying.

“But it’s the only thing I’m good at,” she whispered. “Being a maid, it’s an honourable position, but I’m—”

“You know that your primary responsibility will be protecting this house,” Ciel interrupted her. “This way, you can continue doing what you’re good at, but you won’t have to feel any guilt. I can assure you that people who come here do not deserve your compassion. After all, what kind of person would want to kill a child?”

It pained him to utter these words. It pained him even more to see how amused Sebastian was by all this, but it had to be done.

Mey-Rin gasped before nodding vigorously.

“Also,” Ciel said, “I imagine you’ll have enough time to develop in other areas. You won’t be limited in anything. And who knows, you might enjoy being a maid.”

“I will!” Mey-Rin almost jumped in anticipation, clenching her skirt in her hands. “I most certainly will! I won’t let you down, Young Master! And… and you,” she turned to Sebastian, blushing and suddenly shy, and Ciel rolled his eyes.

“Of course you won’t,” Sebastian’s lips curled slightly upward, but the danger underlying this semblance of a smile was unmistakable. Judging from Mey-Rin’s shudder, she felt it, too. “I’ll make sure of it,” Sebastian added, and his smile widened when Mey-Rin backed away instinctively.

“It’s all right,” Ciel said, sending Sebastian a warning glance. Now wasn’t the time to intimidate their new servant. “If you need any help, just ask Sebastian. You should also make a list of the things you’ll need, including weapons.”

“Weapons!” The excitement in Mey-Rin’s voice was palpable. “What is the price range, sir?”

“No price range. Just make sure you have everything to ensure the protection of this house. It has already been burned once. I don’t want to repeat the experience.”

Mey-Rin made another pained noise before nodding decisively.

“Thank you, Young Master,” she murmured. “With your permission, I’ll go make that list. I’ll also need some cleaning supplies! Oh, it’s so exciting!”

Ciel could hardly imagine what was exciting about cleaning, but he smiled in response.

He waited until Mey-Rin approached the door before clearing his throat in a deliberately hesitant way.

“Mey-Rin…” he said softly. “Thank you. Your help means a lot to me.”

Satisfaction welled up in his chest when she glowed with happiness from being needed and appreciated.

“I won’t let you down,” Mey-Rin swore again, then bowed and left the room.

Soon, Sebastian nodded, indicating that she had gone beyond the range of hearing, and Ciel finally relaxed. With a sigh, he dropped onto his armchair, rubbing his temples.

“What kind of people would want to kill a child indeed,” Sebastian drawled. “That must be the first time I’ve heard you refer to yourself that way, Master.”

“Oh, shut up! I had to say something. And it worked, didn’t it? She appeared sincere. I don’t think we’ll regret our choice. Her clumsiness, though…”

“Leave it to me, my lord,” Sebastian pressed his hand to his chest. “I assure you it won’t be a problem.”

“We’ll see,” Ciel concluded. “So, we have one more servant now. Have you found any other candidates? It’d be better to hire all of them within the same time period, so they could adjust together and become a team. It’ll give them one more reason to stay and be loyal to me. I assume that Mey-Rin and people like her don’t have any friends.”

“That does remind me of someone,” Sebastian agreed, and it took Ciel a moment to realise the implication. He was unsure if he should be offended but he glared just in case.

“Did you find anyone else or not?” he demanded coldly.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Sebastian approached his table and pulled out a thick folder. “Lau provided me with location of a secret research centre. Apparently, it is financed by both British and American governments — the centre is masked as a prison facility but in reality, it’s focused on human experimentation. Those scientists attempt to transform their subjects into unique soldiers who would be able to withstand inhuman pressure. Specifically—”

“What?” Ciel stood up abruptly, hoping he’d heard wrong. “Are you suggesting that the Queen knows about the existence of such centre and does nothing?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows rose mockingly.

“More than that,” he drawled, amused. “The Queen knows about this centre and she was the one to fund it. I imagine she wishes to have her personal army of—”

“Shut up!” Ciel’s hands twitched with desire to slap Sebastian for even daring to say this. Confusion and indignation clashed, filling him with questions he didn’t want to think about and with automatic refusal to even consider such outrageous accusation.

It couldn’t be true. Perhaps some of the Queen’s decisions could be hasty, but human experimentation centre? 

“The Queen would have never sanctioned the creation of a place like this,” Ciel said, trying to sound calm. “She can’t know about it.”

“If you say so,” Sebastian uttered, and this time, his voice was practically overflowing with mockery. “After all, who could know the Queen better than her very own Watchdog?”

“You!..”

“I apologise for speaking so rashly, Master,” Sebastian bowed deeply, his face a mask of insincere sincerity, and Ciel growled under his breath. That bastard. “If I may, there is an individual among the human subjects at the centre that could become a worthy addition to the household. His name is Finnian. I’ve collected all information I could find, so if you’d open the file…”

Ciel did, no less infuriated and concerned. When he saw the pictures, though, his thoughts about the Queen vanished. For a moment, his mind went blank, and then the memories returned, heavy and detailed and sickening.

_The cages. Constant darkness and knowledge that when the light came, it would mean the arrival of the cult, the start of a new ceremony. The start of torture. The start of—_

Ciel’s hands shook, so he lowered them and sat down quickly, hoping that Sebastian hadn’t seen it.

The pictures still made him sick.

Tiny cells. Gloomy corridors and deceptively light laboratories. People, some dead, some barely resembling humans, with wounds and needle marks everywhere. Tattooed numbers on their necks marking them as subjects, not people. All of them young, and their eyes…     

Ciel knew this emptiness. He knew what it meant. None of them would be able to make it back from the hell they had been dragged into.

Except…

He stared at Finnian’s file and the picture Sebastian had attached.

Finnian’s eyes were alive. Scared, desperate, but somehow still hopeful. The notes indicated that he was being injected with something to enhance his physical strength and that the final test was to be conducted today.

Physical strength wasn’t very high on Ciel’s list of preferred attributes, but one look at Finnian’s face — and he knew he wanted him here.

“Sebastian,” he said sharply. “This is an order. Go to that centre and recruit Finnian. I want him to be here today, preferably before the last test is performed on him.”

“Why?” Sebastian seemed genuinely confused. “I’m glad you approve of my choice, Master, but the final test is likely to result in his strength reaching the maximum point. Currently Finnian is the only surviving subject, so all efforts are focused on him. The stronger he is, the more useful he is going to be to us.”

Ciel pursed his lips, disgusted and disturbed by how casually Sebastian treated the horrors that people at those centres were subjected to.

It was to be expected, of course. But still, some part of him — a part that still cringed from any reminder of the _cell, darkness, blood_ , was strangely disappointed.

Sebastian had apparently interpreted his silence in his own way because a sneer twisted his features.

“Are you feeling sorry for Finnian, Master?” he asked, and all amusement and mockery were gone from his voice. Only warning coldness remained. “May I remind you that we’re looking for the person with the most developed abilities? It was your own idea to make the screening process so strict. Have you changed your mind simply because of sentiments? Your sympathy, perhaps?”

It was too much. Sebastian had been testing his boundaries lately and this was the place where Ciel had to stop him.  

Curling his lips derisively, he pushed back against his chair, watching Sebastian intently. He had put all condescendence he could gather within himself into his look, and from how Sebastian stiffened, it obviously worked.

“Do you know the difference between sympathy and empathy, Sebastian?” Ciel asked. Before Sebastian could open his mouth, he went on, “No, I assume you don’t. Demons aren’t capable of sympathy, so I imagine you have only a vague idea of what it means. Empathy, on the other hand, is something that even creatures like you ought to experience. Let’s look at this situation differently. You, as a demon, spend quite a lot of time in the human world. Whether or not you remove all witnesses is irrelevant, there are still people who have seen or heard something, who might suspect you or other demons of being who you are. Will you deny it?”

“No,” Sebastian replied. “However, I don’t see how it—”

“One day, these people might meet. One day, they can decide to target demons. To build a centre like this one and start experimentations. To see what pain threshold you have, under what pressure you might break, what can subdue your will and even how to kill you. How to become you. Would you find it amusing, to know that some species of your kind are locked up and experimented upon?”

“It’s impossible,” Sebastian scoffed, but his eyes were wide and Ciel felt dark triumph swelling in his chest.

“It may not be possible now, but technologies are improving,” he said calmly. “You can’t know what will happen in a hundred or a thousand years. Someone may form a contract with a demon specifically to learn about their nature. Everyone has weaknesses, I’m sure you aren’t the exception. So tell me, would you find it amusing if demons were ‘subjects’? And I order you to reply truthfully.”

Sebastian stared at him as if he were seeing him for the first time. He was startled, maybe even concerned, and Ciel couldn’t be more satisfied.

“No,” Sebastian finally said. His words were quiet and reluctant. “I would not find it amusing.”

“I thought so,” Ciel narrowed his eyes. “Even the most vicious beings can usually feel empathy. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you stopped throwing around words that you yourself aren’t capable of understanding. No, I don’t pity Finnian. I don’t sympathize with him. But I understand what he is going through and I don’t wish to subject him to further tests if it’s possible to avoid them. According to the file, he’s already strong enough.”

“But Master…” Sebastian still looked uncharacteristically lost. “To ensure your safety and the safety of the house, it would be better if the experiment was finished.”

“If it’s finished by the time you get there, then so be it. But I neither want it nor need it. Do you understand?”  

“Yes,” Sebastian bowed again, and Ciel allowed himself to relax when he detected no hint of previous mockery or coldness in it.

Sebastian appreciated being surprised. Hopefully, it would keep him in check for the next several weeks.

“The first thing you’ll do now is buy a hat,” Ciel said and Sebastian looked up, clearly curious.

“A hat, my lord?”

“Yes. A straw hat, and the wider it is, the better. Bring it to me and then go after Finnian. Kill those scientists. Leave none of them alive.”

  “Right away,” Sebastian sent him a thoughtful look before titling his head in respect again and leaving.

Ciel let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. It was morning and his head was already aching.

Damn Sebastian. Couldn’t he have summoned a less infuriating demon? Those constant tests were exhausting.

On the other hand, so far, Ciel had managed to keep him interested.

He’d have to do everything possible to preserve this interest until his revenge was fulfilled.

 

 

***

 

 

Sebastian had managed to complete both tasks within the shortest period. In less than two hours, Finnian was already in his office, and looking into his terrified, haunted eyes, Ciel was no longer sure he’d made the right choice.

Maybe Sebastian was right. Maybe it was indeed sentiments that had made him approve of Finnian’s candidature. This shaking, scared boy was hardly older than him, how would he able to protect him?

Then Ciel remembered everything he had read in his file and his resolve strengthened.

“Hello, Finnian,” he said, trying to sound gentle. “My name is Ciel Phantomhive. Did Sebastian explain why we wish to hire you?”

“Yes,” the boy stared at him and to Ciel’s concern, his terror didn’t seem to dissipate. “But I told him, I don’t think I can be of any use to you.”

“Finnian—”

“Finnie. Please call me Finnie. That’s my name. I…” Finnie touched the back of his neck and flinched. “I don’t like my full name.”

“Of course. Finnie,” Ciel contemplated him for a second, trying to decide how to proceed. One glance at Sebastian showed that he was completely mystified himself and thus useless.

Well, what had he expected?    

“I won’t force you to work for me,” Ciel said finally. “If you want to leave, you can do that right now. But where would you go? Do you have a family?”

“…No,” Finnie wrapped his hands around himself, biting his lip. “But I can’t stay here. I don’t want to be locked up. I don’t want to kill anymore, not my friends, not anyone. Never again.”

Now this, Ciel could work with.

“Then you might want to reconsider,” he said. “We have a position of a gardener. It’ll be spring soon and there is a big garden in front of the house — you could take care of it. It means that you’ll be able to spend the majority of your time outside. Also, no one is going to lock you up. I give you my word. As for killing… Would you be ready to kill to protect yourself or your friends?”

“I… yes. Yes, I might do that. But I don’t have any friends.”

“You have one now,” Ciel made himself smile in the friendliest way possible, though Sebastian’s snort nearly ruined his concentration. “And you’ll have other friends here,” he hastened to assure. “You’re not the only person we’re hiring. I hope that together, you will all grow to love this place and you’ll want to protect it.”

“Someone is attacking you?” Finnie made one hesitant step towards him and Ciel continued smiling, relieved and encouraged by this reaction.

“Yes,” he said. Briefly, he wondered what part of the story to share this time to secure his success.

Doing it was harder than he had expected. He didn’t want to think about it, to share even a small piece of his past with anyone other than Sebastian, who already knew it all.

But for building trust, he had to do it. He had done it with Mey-Rin, he could do it with Finnie. Especially with him.

 “I was also locked up,” Ciel murmured quietly and was rewarded by Finnie’s gasp. “For a long time. I couldn’t see anything for the majority of the day, and when the room was lit—” He nearly tripped here but quickly managed to go on, “I wished I could go back to the darkness.”

“Were people who did this to you caught?”

“No,” it took Ciel all efforts to avoid glancing at Sebastian. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “They weren’t caught. Some of them continue to attack me and my home. That’s why I need your help. You can work in the garden and do what you want in your free time, but when the danger comes, I’d like you to help eliminate it.”

Ciel waited for response, watching how hope bloomed in Finnie’s eyes before suddenly transforming back into despair. With a short cry, Finnie dropped to his knees, crashing his fists against the floor.

“I can’t!” he cried out. “I can’t control my strength. I bring only troubles. When I was in my cell, I had a bird. A little bird who kept visiting me, the only one who… But when I tried to pat it, it died. It fell apart right in my hands! I can’t trust myself and you can’t trust me, too! I could hurt you!”

  Finnie’s shoulders began to shake and for a second, Ciel was filled with a reckless desire to leave the room and let Sebastian console him.

He couldn’t do it. What did he know about comforting anyone? The books Sebastian assigned him to read gave him an idea of how to carry out complicated conversations, but he hadn’t had a chance to gain an actual practical experience will all kinds of them. He wasn’t good at it.

Ciel looked at Sebastian, ready to order him to persuade Finnie in whatever way he could, but he was stricken by an emotionless, blank expression on his face.

Sebastian was bored. Only his position and his appreciation for aesthetics probably stopped him from yawning.

Would he be able to even pretend to be understanding? Sebastian was hopeless when it came to emotions. No matter how many times Ciel woke up from his nightmares, Sebastian was there, but he clearly wanted to leave as soon as possible. When the memories were too overwhelming to brush them off and Ciel asked him to stay, Sebastian tended to take a guarding position next to the window, far away from the bed, impersonal, professional, and bored.

  Regardless of Ciel’s turmoil, even he could do better than that. Leaving overemotional Finnie in Sebastian’s care wasn’t an option.

Taking a deep breath, Ciel approached Finnie and lowered himself to his knees, mirroring his posture. Then he held out his hand.

“Here,” he said. “Take it.”

“Young Master!” Sebastian suddenly came back to life, making several hurried steps towards them. “What are you doing?”

Ciel ignored him, focusing on Finnie’s wide-eyed stare.

“Take my hand,” he said again. “Don’t be scared.”

“But I’ll hurt you!”

“Do it carefully, then. Touch my hand with one finger.”

Finnie raised his trembling hand and hesitantly pressed his finger against Ciel’s palm. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, so Ciel smiled encouragingly.

“Good,” he said. “Now add another one.”

“Young Master!” Sebastian protested again and Ciel growled, “Quiet!”

Finnie stared at their hands for a while before slowly outstretching his second finger. Ciel moved his palm so both fingers would be lying on its inner side and offered, “Now try to press lightly.”

Finnie nodded, hesitated, then nodded again and pressed — and before Ciel knew it, his hand crashed against the floor. Involuntarily, he let out a surprised sound, and the next second Sebastian grabbed him and jumped away from Finnie, holding him protectively.

“I’m sorry!” Finnie’s eyes immediately filled with tears and Ciel, uncaring of how it looked, kicked Sebastian in the shin.

“Let me go!” he hissed. “You idiot, you’re ruining everything!”

“But–”  

“Let me go this instant, it’s an order!”

Sebastian loosened his hold reluctantly and Ciel adjusted his jacket before going back to Finnie.

“It’s all right,” he assured him. “Let’s try this again, but this time, try to be gentler. Do you remember how much pressure you applied? Now try to decrease it a bit.”

Finnie took a trembling breath but nodded. Sebastian also joined them, hovering over Ciel, but at least he was silent now.

Finnie put two of fingers on Ciel’s palm and pressed against it. His hand went down again but it didn’t reach the floor, so Ciel allowed himself another smile.

“Not bad,” he noted. “Let’s do it again. Even less pressure this time.”

 

By the time Finnie risked to actually squeeze his hand, Sebastian looked ready to grab him and take him back to where he’d found him. Ciel was tired but pleased, and hope returned to Finnie’s eyes, burning brighter and brighter with every second.

“Good,” Ciel concluded finally. “We’ll give you a few things that you’d be able to use for practice. But now that the hardest part is over, I’m sure it’ll be easier for you. Oh, and by the way…” Ciel returned to his table and took a round straw hat from it. “Here. It’s for you. It’ll go well with your work in the garden and it’ll hide your scar — if you want it hidden.”

“Yes!” Tears were long gone from Finnie’s face. Now, it was almost glowing. “I don’t know how to thank you, Young Master. I never even dreamed that something like this would be possible for me.”

Before Ciel could reply, Finnie rushed towards him and pressed his head against his shoulder as carefully as he could, without raising his hands.

“Thank you,” Finnie whispered and Ciel patted him on the back awkwardly, embarrassed and mortified. He could see Sebastian watching them intently, probably getting ready to drag him away again if he detected any kind of danger.

Honestly.

Ciel summoned Mey-Rin and sent Finnie with her, and when they both disappeared, he dropped onto his armchair, more exhausted than ever.

“This day is endless,” he complained. Sebastian tsked, approaching and taking his bruised hand.

“It was utterly reckless of you, Master,” he informed him, displeasure brimming in his voice. “He can’t control himself yet. What if he had broken your hand?”

“Well, you would have stopped him then, wouldn’t you?” Ciel said with false seriousness, almost smirking at how indignant Sebastian looked for a moment.

“But you didn’t let me interfere!”

“As you can see, everything went fine. More than fine.”

“Your hand is bruised quite severely,” Sebastian frowned but Ciel shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The bruises will heal but Finnie will never forget this experience. He will accept everything that we offered and he will be loyal to me.”  

“He is still dangerous. I believe you should limit your contact with him until he learns better control.”

“Then help him learn it. You have similar abilities, you are also strong enough to crush a living being in your hands. I’ve seen you do it. So give him some tips. You’re a butler, the servants are your responsibility.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian bowed, the calculating light returning to his eyes.

If Ciel was less tired, he would have felt sorry for Mey-Rin and Finnie. As it was, he just glanced at the clock despondently, wishing he could go to bed right now.

First, though, he had some letters to reply to.

 

 

***

 

 

Next afternoon, there was an unexpected knock on his office door. For a second, Ciel felt a twinge of depression at the thought that there were more people in his house now that he had to interact with, but then he shook his head.

It was for the better. He’d try to be cordial for the first several weeks, maybe a month, and then, hopefully, the servants would learn their place and wouldn’t bother him. Breakfast hadn’t been so bad today — he’d seen neither Mey-Rin nor Finnie, but now, apparently, one of them wanted to talk.

“Enter,” he said. The door opened and Sebastian stepped inside, and Ciel raised his eyebrows, surprised.

That knock didn’t sound like Sebastian’s, not to mention that Sebastian never waited for his permission to enter. What could it be about?

“Master, there is someone here to see you about the job.”

“The job?” Ciel gaped. Sebastian sent him a mischievous look before stepping away and letting a tall, blond man come inside. He looked familiar and it took Ciel a moment to recognize him as Baldroy, the soldier from the file Sebastian had shown to him.

He couldn’t recall giving Sebastian an order to test or hire him. He had clearly expressed that he wasn’t overly interested in Baldroy in the first place. What the hell had given Sebastian an idea that he could act so freely and so boldly? Bringing anyone here without his permission! Without even warning him!

“Uhm, hi?” Baldroy waved and then hunched his shoulders, looking as uncomfortable as Ciel felt angry. “I was told you need my services?”

_You’re a butler, the servants are your responsibility._

That’s what it was. That infuriating demon had once again twisted his words to hire a person he himself was interested in.

Ciel glowered at Sebastian, aching with desire to throw something heavy at him. What was he supposed to do with Baldroy now? Send him away? That would serve Sebastian right.

But if Sebastian was so obsessed with the idea of hiring him, then maybe there was something Ciel was missing?

“Yes,” he said aloud. “My name is Ciel Phantomhive. This house belongs to me and I have been looking for someone who would be able to protect it.”

Baldroy, who had started to look more and more miserable, cheered up and even smiled.

“Nice to meet you!” he exclaimed. “The butler here told me that it’s a double position. I can do lots of things. I can do repairs, make weapons, shoot, devise strategies, both defensive and attack ones... Oh, and I’m a great cook! So whatever you need, I can probably do it!”

Ciel sent Sebastian a sceptical glance, still wishing to hit him with something.

Baldroy sounded enthusiastic but it was all that Ciel saw in him. A good soldier. A nice person. What was it that held Sebastian’s attention?

Sebastian grinned at him, and before Ciel could comprehend what’s going on, he struck. His hand moved towards Baldroy’s head at lightning speed, with the force that could only be deadly, and at this very moment Baldroy suddenly tilted his head and cracked his neck, letting out a frustrated noise.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “The trip here was tiresome.”

Ciel stared at him with his mouth agape, unable to believe what had just happened.

Intuition that Sebastian had mentioned? Could it really be this strong? To avoid death so effectively but without even noticing anything…

It changed things. It changed everything. If Baldroy could sense the danger so well, he’d be able to devise the most effective strategies.

His small army would be practically undefeatable.

“You’re hired,” Ciel said, clearing his throat. Maybe he didn’t feel any connection with Baldroy, but he wasn’t a fool. He could adequately evaluate and appreciate the potential usefulness. “Go to the first floor. My butler will join you in a moment and introduce you to everyone else.”

“Great!” Baldroy beamed at him. He squared his shoulders confidently and bowed in the most awkward way Ciel had ever seen. “I promise, you won’t regret it!”

“My, my, Young Master,” Sebastian drawled when the loud footsteps faded. “That was much less intricate than your attempts with Mey-Rin and Finnie. Are you losing your touch?”

“Bastard!” Ciel growled, jumping from his seat. “How dare you act by yourself? I didn’t give you any orders about Baldroy! At the very least, you could have warned me!”    

“You said that I am responsible for the servants,” Sebastian pressed his hand to his chest. Did he really think he looked more sincere this way? As if Ciel couldn’t see right through him. “I knew Baldroy would be a valuable addition to the household. Human intuition is a fascinating thing. I wonder—”

Without letting him finish, Ciel took an inkwell, opened it, and poured tea inside. Even without looking up, he could tell that Sebastian stared at him, probably trying to guess what he was doing.

Calmly, Ciel stirred the horrid mixture and then threw the inkwell at Sebastian’s head. As he’d expected, Sebastian caught it automatically, but dark splashes managed to stain the green carpet, his face, and even his clothes. There wasn’t much damage, but Ciel knew how difficult it would be to remove the stains that did form.

“The carpet, Master!” Sebastian looked at the dirty marks with obvious despondency, probably imagining how much more tedious work had just appeared in his to-do list.

“Go and help Baldroy. Introduce him to everyone, answer the questions he might have, show him his room. Then come back here and clean this mess.”

“But the ink will have dried by that time—”

“Then you’ll have to be especially thorough,” Ciel cut him off. “I don’t want to see even one dark spot. And no demonic power. Do it the human way.”

Sebastian grimaced as if he had just been assigned the most unpleasant thing to do. He was lucky that it wasn’t warm yet or Ciel would have ordered him to plant several hundreds of white roses manually, forbidding him to use his demonic speed and strength. Now that would be an appropriate punishment.

Holding his head high, he left the room, pretending that he didn’t see how Sebastian was downright pouting, still observing the damage.

Stupid demon.

 

 

***

 

 

It seemed that every new day in his house was becoming more and more unpredictable. Next morning, when Ciel was already at the table, waiting to be served breakfast, the only thing he heard was silence. No Sebastian. No Tanaka. No servants. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded, but his breakfast was already seven minutes late and Sebastian didn’t even come to explain why.

That never happened before. What was going on?

One more minute passed and Ciel huffed, frustrated. He started to say Sebastian’s name when suddenly, there was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by yelps, screams, and sounds of the breaking glass.

Horrified, Ciel got up, trying to decide whether he had to go and investigate or wait here. Before he even approached the door, though, Sebastian finally came — he practically jumped from the kitchen, pushing the door close and giving him one of the most charming and innocent smiles Ciel had ever seen on him.

“I apologise, Master,” he uttered. “Please, go to your study room. I’ll bring your breakfast there in several minutes.”  

Ciel narrowed his eyes, studying him critically. Sebastian didn’t have his tuxedo jacket on and he was all covered in soot — no matter how normally he tried to look, something was clearly wrong.

“What happened?” Ciel asked. Sebastian sighed, as if the mere need to reply pained him.

“I hate to say it, Young Master, but unfortunately, it appears that our new servants are idiots. All of them.”

“Idiots?” Ciel repeated incredulously. “And you’re saying it now, after we hired them?”

“Well, their defense abilities are exemplary, which was our main goal. But regarding cleaning, cooking, and helping with chores…”

There was another loud crash, once again followed by yelps, and Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Idiots,” he repeated again. “Yes. I can see that.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” for once, Sebastian did look apologetic. “I made a grave mistake when I entrusted them with such important preparations. I’ll make your breakfast myself.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I’m hungry.”

Sebastian bowed and hastened to disappear behind the kitchen door again, careful to hide whatever ruins were there from Ciel.

What had his house been turned into?

Upset and hungry, Ciel went to his office, and froze as soon as he saw the letter from the Queen on top of his daily correspondence.

Curious, he opened it and began to read.

By the time he finished, he no longer wanted any breakfast.

 

 

***

 

 

“Are you sure it was a good idea to take those three with us to London?” Ciel asked. Their carriage had just dropped Mey-Rin, Finnie, and Baldroy at the house and headed towards the crime scene that the Queen wanted him to visit.

“Yes.” Contrary to his words, Sebastian didn’t look thrilled with the idea. “The first weeks of education are crucial and I have to make sure they learn at least the basic skills. Leaving them at the house without supervision at this point is dangerous.”

That Ciel couldn’t argue with. He only hoped that during their absence, the manor with Tanaka wouldn’t be attacked and that his London house would survive the combination of Mey-Rin, Finnie, and Baldroy.

Honestly, even Sebastian wasn’t that hopeless when he had just started performing his duties.

“How many bodies have been found so far?” Sebastian asked and Ciel’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

“Six,” he said grimly. “The one we’re going to see now is the seventh. All children from eight to thirteen: five boys and two girls. All drugged, violated, and strangled.”

Sebastian said nothing but Ciel could feel his attentive, assessing stare. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the streets they were passing instead.   

Someone was evidently determined to plunge him back into the darkness he had managed to crawl up from. First Mey-Rin and Finnie with whom he had to share the bits of his past. Now this case, where the nightmarish visions would undoubtedly try to weaken his resolve.

He wouldn’t let them. He would do his job as efficiently as always and then he would go home and try to forget this case ever happened.

The carriage finally stopped. Ciel waited for Sebastian to open the door for him and got down, feeling how his heart began to speed up but determined to ignore it.  

There were several police officers guarding the entrance to the basement of an old building. One tall man with grey hair and spectacles immediately drew his attention. Ciel recalled the blurry pictures of him from the newspapers — Lord Arthur Randall, a police commissioner of the Scotland Yard.

When he and Sebastian approached, Randall glanced at him in disinterest and then did a double-take, staring at his ring.

“Phantomhive?” he asked, and the doubt in his voice made Ciel bristle.

“It’s Earl Phantomhive,” he said coldly. “I’ve come to see the crime scene. I trust it you’ve kept it secured?”

Ciel could see how Randall reacted to his tone, narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders confrontationally.

“I need to see the evidence that you are who you say you are,” he uttered through gritted teeth.

“Is my family ring not enough?”

“You could have stolen it from the real Earl.”

Ciel snorted.

“I _am_ the real Earl,” he said hauntingly, snatching the Queen’s letter from his coat and waving it in front of Randall’s face derisively. “Now show me the body. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

Randall and the officers who stood next to him all stared at him with various degrees of turmoil and Ciel barely hid a smirk.

It never failed to be amusing, seeing how others reacted to him. They were all misled by his age and his appearance, and proving them wrong was immensely satisfying.

He had been the child they expected him to be once, but that child had died more than a year ago.

“And who is that?” Randall looked at Sebastian suspiciously.

“Sebastian Michaelis, my butler,” Ciel stared into Randall’s face intently to solidify the point he was making. “He goes where I go.”

“I wasn’t informed of—”

“Enough! Show me the body.”

“Be my guest — if you can stomach it.”

Privately, Ciel wasn’t sure he could, but after these words, he had no other choice.

He followed Randall down the basement, carefully measuring each of his breaths.

He wasn’t going to react to whatever was waiting for him there. He would remain strong. He had already seen dead bodies before — the fact that it was children now, and those who had been violated prior to death, didn’t change anything.

Ciel kept repeating these words like mantra, again and again, forcefully stopping his breathing from growing laboured. Only slow, deep breaths, three and a half seconds between each of them.

When he saw the half-naked body of a boy, though, with his wide, glassy eyes and bare legs stained with blood and other fluids, all air was crushed right out of his lungs. A wave of nausea rolled up, almost making him heave, and for a moment, the world flickered, mixing the past and the present, destroying his understanding of where he was now.

Then Sebastian’s gloved fingers brushed against his neck slightly, and the cool touch instantly made the world regain its contours. From the outside, it must have looked like Sebastian was adjusting his collar, but this fleeting touch was startlingly personal — it was enough to ground him.    

Ciel could still taste the vomit, felt it caked around his mouth, but his voice was steady when he said, “The victim is dressed in a coat that’s too light for such weather. It also looks cheap, so he can’t be from a wealthy family. Was his identity established?”

“Not yet,” Randall replied, looking sour. He was probably disappointed that Ciel hadn’t run from the scene screaming.

Ciel smiled with the corner of his lips and shared a quick look with Sebastian, who wore an equally satisfied smirk.

“What about others?” Ciel turned to Randall again. “Was anyone identified or are you too incompetent to do even that?”

“Now listen here, you…” Randall bit back an obvious curse. “Our investigation was going well without you. No one here needs your ‘help’, or whatever it is you’re offering.”

“The Queen clearly thinks differently or she wouldn’t have asked me to come,” Ciel retorted and was treated to a lovely sight of Randall’s face growing red with anger. “Do answer my question.”

“Only three have been identified. All of them were from East End. Not that their families were looking for them. That sort of people—”

“East End. It’s my district, why wasn’t I informed sooner?”

Randall glowered at him.

“As I said,” he spat, “we were doing fine without you.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Ciel focused on the body again, careful not to look at the boy’s lower half. Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer and bent down, checking the pockets of the boy’s coat. His fingers immediately grasped something soft, and when he pulled the object out, he was astonished to realise it was a small stuffed elephant produced by his own company.

Ciel stood up, showing the toy to Sebastian. The silent gaze they exchanged told him that Sebastian had the exact same thought: the toy was a lure.

“The Queen mentioned these children were drugged before death,” Ciel said aloud. “What is this drug? Is it expensive?”

“What does its price have to do with anything?”

Sebastian snorted quietly and Ciel lowered his head to hide a smile.

“It’s quite simple, Lord Randall,” he uttered. “Do you see this toy? It’s one of the Funtom Corporation’s products. I assure you that children from East End wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“So he stole it from someone. Although I cannot imagine why he would bother, it’s such an ugly toy.”

“This toy has been developed specifically for India,” Sebastian intervened suddenly and Ciel glanced at him, surprised. To his amazement, Sebastian almost looked insulted — his eyes were redder than normal as he stared at Randall. “It’s a top choice among Indian children.”

“Indians!” Randall scoffed. “I’m not surprised. And it doesn’t explain anything, so what’s your point?”

“Considering your attempt at deflection, I assume you have failed to identify the drug, either,” Ciel summarised. “Was there anything you did do? Apart from finding the bodies.”

“We conducted an analysis of the drug,” Randall barked, clenching his fists as if to hold himself from striking him. His reactions were so amusing that they successfully managed to distract Ciel from the body.

He’d thought that it would be harder to rattle someone like Randall.

“And? What did it show?”

Randall grimaced and then reluctantly pulled out a file form his coat. Ciel grabbed it, opened it, and pretended that he understood what was written there.

“All right, I’ve seen everything I needed,” he said condescendingly. “Come, Sebastian. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Randall’s face turned red again. “And that’s it? My people were forced to wait for your arrival for hours just so you could check the boy’s pockets and steal my file?”

“The toy I found in his pocket told me what I need to know to solve this case. As for the file — why would you need it? You’re clearly incapable of making proper conclusions.”

More than satisfied, Ciel turned on his heel and walked away, knowing that Sebastian was following him.

When they were outside, he inhaled deeply, relieved to be away from that suffocating basement.

“It was impressive, Master,” Sebastian commented. “Although I believe you have just made another enemy.”

“I don’t need him as my friend. He’s incompetent, bigoted, and narrow-minded. I will be able to solve this case myself.”

“How?” Sebastian sounded genuinely intrigued.

“First, we go to Lau. Then…” Ciel broke off when he noticed how Sebastian’s eyes suddenly glazed over and filled with affection. The sight was so rare that he stared at it wide-eyed, unable to comprehend what could possibly lead to such reaction.

Then he noticed a mewling cat and groaned.

“Ah,” Sebastian murmured, making several steps towards it and dropping right to his knees. “What a beauty. You must be hungry, you look so thin…”

“Are you actually talking to it?” Ciel asked in frustration. Sebastian’s strange fixation had been hilarious the first time, amusing the second time, but by the third, it started to get weird. Now, they had to be on the twentieth cat Sebastian had encountered, yet his reaction remained the same every time.

“Master,” Sebastian turned to him and Ciel cringed at his beseeching expression. It didn’t belong on Sebastian’s face. “May I leave you for just a moment? I’ll be right back.”

“Leave me? Where are you planning to go?”

“I’ll bring this lovely thing something to eat.”

“It’s a cat, Sebastian! It can find food by itself!”

Sebastian’s crestfallen face was too much to tolerate, so Ciel barked, “Fine, leave. I give you thirty seconds.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian bowed and then disappeared. Wherever he had jumped to, he’d done it so quickly that Ciel didn’t even notice him move.

Twelve seconds later he returned, holding something bloody in his hands. The cat mewled happily while Ciel’s jaw dropped.

“What is this thing?” he asked warily. He wouldn’t be surprised if his idiot butler had just dismembered some unfortunate person to feed the cat.

“There is a morgue a few houses from here. One of the bodies was just being delivered and—”

“What?!” Ciel yelled. “You’ve torn a chunk from the dead body to feed a cat?”

“It was the only thing I could detect nearby. Initially, I considered pigeons but—”

“Never do that again! No tearing pieces from the bodies, what the hell is wrong with you? Ugh!” Ciel turned away, rubbing his throat and trying to swallow the newly rising nausea back. Then he stalked towards the carriage.

Sebastian followed him, still throwing enamoured glances at the cat they were leaving behind.

“You could have chosen animals that I’m not allergic to at least,” Ciel growled.

“From where I’m from—”

“I don’t care where you are from, shut up! That was disgusting!” 

Sebastian fell silent, probably affronted, but Ciel didn’t care.

He’d had enough revolting visions for today — and the day was far from over.

 

 

***

 

 

Lau’s den was filled with toxic smoke, as always, and Ciel had to hold his nose to even walk through it.

“We have to do something about his business,” he croaked. “It’s getting annoying.”

“We have a mutually beneficial agreement with Lau, Master,” Sebastian reminded him. “And he has proven to be quite useful.”

“I know,” Ciel sighed. “It’s still annoying.”

Lau greeted them cordially, with a carefree smile that Ciel could never really decipher.

“Earl,” he drawled. “I have been wondering when you were going to visit me. With these awful doings…”

“Awful doings?” Ciel frowned. “How can you know what I’m investigating?”

“You’re investigating something?” Lau opened one of his eyes and Ciel growled under his breath.

“Stop doing this,” he hissed. “And yes, I am. I need your advice about this drug. Are you familiar with it?”

This time, Lau opened both eyes, accepting the outstretched file.

“You’ve come to the right person,” he said. “I do know this drug.”

Ciel rolled his eyes.

“If you couldn’t even help with this, I’d start to doubt our cooperation,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Lau sent an inscrutable glance to Sebastian before focusing on Ciel again. “It’s unique in our market. Only a select few can afford it.”

“Does it come from India?”

“It does,” Lau returned the file, still gazing at Ciel curiously. “I wonder where you could possibly encounter it, Earl.”

“Someone drugs children with it before killing them.”

“I see,” Lau inhaled the smoke deeply, his face smoothening in pleasure. “Is it all that’s done to them?”

Ciel stiffened.

“No,” he replied slowly and Lau nodded.

“It has an interesting effect, this drug,” he said. “I haven’t used it myself, I’m afraid it’s not entirely my area.”

When he said nothing else, Ciel hurried him, “What kind of effect?”

“Let’s see,” Lau stepped to him and touched his stomach lightly. “You lose all feelings in your body. It depends on the amount of the drug you consume, of course. Smaller dosage will let you move, albeit slowly, but bigger one will leave you paralysed — more or less. Then,” Lau’s fingers went up and pressed against Ciel’s throat, “your breathing slows, your senses begin to leave you entirely. Your body is still functional but the mind is shutting down. Then—” Lau suddenly removed his hands and grinned. “It’s either the end, the beginning, or the pleasure of both.”

“Right.” That was not confusing at all. “I think this will be enough for us. Let’s go, Sebastian.”

Ciel caught Sebastian giving Lau a long, indecipherable look. He didn’t understand its meaning and at this moment, he didn’t care.  

On the street, Ciel greedily sucked in the cold air, letting it soothe his burning lungs.

“Where to now?” Sebastian asked and Ciel grimaced.

“Undertaker,” he said reluctantly. “I want to finish this case tomorrow at the latest. We need to know who among the local nobility has frequent dealings with India and is known in the underworld.”

“He might ask for a payment,” Sebastian warned. “We still don’t know what it is that he requires. Last time, he shared the information for free.”

“Whatever it is he needs, I’m sure we can provide him with it,” Ciel snorted. “It can’t be anything impossible, can it?”

 

 

***

 

 

“Making you laugh!” Ciel yelled. “What kind of payment is that?”

“The only one I accept.”

“Can’t you just take money?”

“What would I need it for?” Undertaker tilted his head, a picture of innocent confusion, and Ciel almost screamed with frustration. This day was an utter nightmare.

“You could have at least warned us! We didn’t come prepared.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I won’t be able to share anything with you, then. Come by next time.”

“But we need information now! How about—” Ciel thought hastily. “How about you help us for free again and the next time, we’ll pay you double?”

“Double?” Sebastian asked and Ciel squinted at him. Sebastian looked sceptical. “Do you know any jokes, Master? Somehow, I find it hard to believe.”

“I’m sure you know plenty,” Ciel hissed before turning to Undertaker again. “So?” he asked confidently. “Do we have a deal?”

“Why, yes,” Undertaker grinned and sat down on one of the coffins, tapping against its surface slowly. His nails scratched it with an annoying sound and Ciel cringed. How could any representative of such profession have such long nails? And black ones, at that. Obviously they were painted, but the sight was still strange.

 “I’ll hold you to it,” Undertaker sing-songed. “What is it that I can help you with? Perhaps you wish to test one of my coffins? They’re of utmost comfort. See for yourself.”

“What? No!” Ciel shuddered. As if he would ever willingly climb into a coffin. “We are looking for a man who has money, close contacts with India, and who might be known for making donations to children’s organisations. Or he might be known for his less than innocent love for children in more criminal circles. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Ah,” Undertaker’s smile widened and became frustratingly mysterious. “I think I know just what case you’re investigating. The Queen is sending children to find the killers of other children now, is she? What a fascinating strategy. Don’t you think so, butler?” Undertaker looked at Sebastian.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sebastian replied evenly. “Evaluating the wisdom of the Queen’s decisions is not my area of expertise. I’m merely one hell of a butler,” he grinned and Ciel smacked himself on the forehead, not knowing whether to scream or laugh hysterically.

Sebastian loved his stupid joke and tried to use it whenever he had an opportunity. Ciel hadn’t heard it lately and he started to hope that it meant Sebastian had lost interest in it.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Demons had the weirdest sense of humour.

“One hell of a butler, you say?” Undertaker hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe you are.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian bowed a little.

“Enough!” Ciel glared at them both. Who on earth was he cooperating with? “Do you know the man based on the description I’ve given you?”

“I’m ninety three percent certain that you’re talking about Frederick Lyndon,” Undertaker shuddered in an exaggerated manner. “A Count who has bought himself a title not so long ago. He loves products exclusive to India — toys, weapons… drugs,” Undertaker bared his teeth and Ciel couldn’t help but find this smile intimidating. Involuntarily, he made one step towards Sebastian, then forced himself to stop.

“Your help is appreciated,” he said coolly. “Sebastian, we’re leaving.”

“Don’t forget about our deal, Earl Phantomhive,” Undertaker waved at them, smiling normally this time. “I do look forward to your next visit.”

“Young Master, do you want to visit Lyndon right now?” Sebastian asked as they left the parlour, and Ciel shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve had enough for one day. Let’s go home. And I hope we won’t have to return here any time soon,” Ciel glanced back at the parlour. Undertaker was a disturbing man — who else would take laughter for payment?

“As you wish,” Sebastian opened the door of the carriage for him and Ciel climbed inside, trying not to think about what he would have to do tomorrow.

To visit Lyndon. A man who killed children. A man who violated them.

He survived today, he would survive tomorrow as well. Nightmares be damned.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and feedback is very appreciated and craved! :)


	8. Hiring. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a quicker update this time!) Thank you all so much for your amazing support, it takes me aback every time. And since I'm unlikely to update till after the New Year, Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope the next year will be kinder to us all. 
> 
> WARNING: This chapter features some more detailed references to child rape and death. Also, quite strong PTSD symptoms mentions.

That night, Ciel couldn’t sleep. He tried to force the unpleasant images from his mind but they kept returning, stubborn and acidic, devouring the strength of his resolve. 

He didn’t want to have nightmares. Preferably not ever, but at least not tonight. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day as it was, he didn’t need any additional complications, any reminders that failed to fade from his memory no matter how hard he tried.

The sleep finally came, but as he’d expected, nothing good came with it. The shadows haunted him, whispering things that Ciel tried to ignore, and then, suddenly, he found himself back in his cell, with other children, watching the room and everything happening there.

_It’s not real_ , he thought, but terror already paralysed him, destroying every link to reality he had been clinging to. A tall man in the grey coat stepped towards the cell and started to open the door, and paralysis instantly morphed into half-forgotten, terrified instinct to throw himself into one of the corners, trying to blend in and become invisible. Sobs, cries, and pleas filled the cell, and the man took off his mask, grinning.

“So?” he asked. “Any volunteers?”

Ciel shook in his corner, pushing his knees to his chest as hard as he could. His teeth were chattering and he hoped that the sound wasn’t too loud, that it wouldn’t draw attention to him.   

The man grabbed one of the boys and dragged him out, and the boy immediately broke in hysterical screaming, clawing at the hand that held him and trying to get free.

A choked sound of relief and despair left Ciel’s chest and he closed his eyes, praying to God, begging to be saved.

When the boy’s screaming changed into piercing, pained yells, Ciel looked up involuntarily and shuddered when he saw what was being done to him. At another choking gasp, his own eyes filled with tears and he cried, not wanting to be chosen next. His whole body ached, as if it was him being torn in half, and he was filled with a sudden, maddening desire to claw at the walls until they let him out, until he left this place, until he ran and ran, far away from here.   

There was one word that could save him. The knowledge of this was intrinsic, but no matter how much Ciel tried, he couldn’t remember it. He recalled the words of all prayers his mother had taught him, but they felt empty and worthless now, when he was confined to this pit of hell.

Several more people took the weakened boy and dragged him to the other corner of the room. The man in the grey coat walked back to their cell and Ciel began to shake again, knowing, _feeling_ that this time, he was going to be chosen.

To his horror, the man’s eyes did focus on him, and then he moved towards him and Ciel screamed even before he touched him, his mind filling with white-hot, primitive panic.

And then the word came, the only word that made sense, that was powerful enough to put a stop to everything.

Sebastian. How could he forget?

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.

“Sebastian!” Ciel shrieked. “Help me! Sebastian!”

The man finally grabbed him and the touch felt burningly real, more real than the boy’s screams had been, more real than what was still being done to him and what was apparently waiting for Ciel.

He wouldn’t survive it, not again.

“Sebastian!” his voice broke to the point where he no longer recognised it. “Sebastian, please!”

The last word was unfamiliar, almost foreign, and utterly useless. Sebastian didn’t come.

“Sebastian!” Ciel’s scream was so loud and shrilly that it deafened him.

“I’m here,” the man drawled mockingly, still holding him and grinning that half-crazed, lustful smile at him. Ciel shook his head, refusing to believe it.

“Sebastian!” he howled. He didn’t care if calling him was hopeless — this name was the only real prayer he knew.

“I’m here,” the man said again, but this time, his voice sounded achingly familiar. Ciel blinked through his tears and the room changed, transforming into the bedroom of his London house.

Sebastian was kneeling in front of his bed, watching him with confusion and concern. The very sight of him was so heart-stoppingly comforting that Ciel threw his hands around his neck before he could think about it, hiding his face in the familiar black jacket.

“Kill them,” he murmured. “Kill them, Sebastian. Kill them all.”

“I already did, Master.”

“Good,” Ciel inhaled Sebastian’s smell deeply, revelling in the safety it provided. “If they return, you will kill them again, yes?”

“Of course. I will do anything to protect you. Until the very end.”

Ciel nodded and tightened his grip around Sebastian’s neck, pressing even closer to him — and then the reality broke through, bringing an understanding of what happened, of who he was and what he was doing.

A nightmare. Just a simple nightmare, like he’d expected. And instead of dealing with it maturely, like he taught himself, he was clinging to the demon who would only mock his weakness, despise him for it.

Unless he had to carry him, Sebastian never held him back. The thought clearly never even occurred to him, so why Ciel’s mind saw him as the source of physical comfort was beyond his ability to understand.

He hesitated, strangely unwilling to let go even if his consciousness had returned to him, and Sebastian suddenly raised his hand and touched his back once, then twice, in a slow, hesitant caress.

For a moment, Ciel was too stunned to react. His shock began to melt into disbelief, then into stupor, and then he recalled how he himself had been comforting Finnie just a few days ago, right in front of Sebastian.

Sebastian was mirroring him, repeating his own movements, even preserving the awkwardness with which Ciel had stroked Finnie’s back.

The knowledge felt surreal. Shocking.

And yes, it probably didn’t mean anything to Sebastian, but his attempt at comfort, whatever provoked it and whatever personal gain was hiding underneath, did mean something to Ciel.

Maybe he could allow himself to enjoy it. Just tonight. Just for an hour.

Ciel shifted, pressing his chin against Sebastian’s shoulder and taking another deep breath, slowly calming under the cool, soothing touches. Something at the door attracted his attention, though, and when he looked up, he saw Finnie’s, Mey-Rin’s, and Baldroy’s pale faces.

Sebastian had forgotten to close the door. Had he been hurrying in response to Ciel’s screams or had he done it deliberately?

For some reason, Ciel doubted it was the latter, but fury and embarrassment still crashed into him, and the touch that had seem so comforting just a moment ago suddenly became a brand of weakness and helplessness.

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed and pushed Sebastian away with all his strength. For a brief second, something akin to confusion and embarrassment flickered across Sebastian’s face, but it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by the usual coldness.

“And you,” Ciel turned to stare at the servants again. “Get out! Now! NOW!”

All three gasped and obeyed immediately, but it was already too late. They had already seen that sickening display of weakness. They’d never look at him like he had wanted them to.

“How could you not close the door, you idiot!” Ciel spat, glaring at Sebastian. He had to clench the blanket in his fists to keep himself from lashing out physically. “What, you can’t do two tasks at once? What kind of butler are you?”

“I apologise, my lord,” Sebastian bowed, but this impersonal demonstration did nothing to soothe Ciel’s rising rage.

“I don’t want you to apologise! I want you to stop making mistakes and stop embarrassing me!”

Ciel regretted his words as soon as he saw the mocking gaze Sebastian gave him. He almost heard him say, “You’ve embarrassed yourself,” and even if this accusation didn’t sound aloud, he still knew it was true.

He was the one to get scared because of some nightmare. He was the one who had latched onto Sebastian and refused to let go.

“Get out,” Ciel ordered, quieter this time. “I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

Sebastian’s lips thinned but he nodded and left, this time closing the door properly.

The room immediately felt empty. Ciel shivered, wrapping the blanket around himself. The clock showed half past three — he still had some time to sleep, but even looking at his pillow filled him with dread.

He didn’t need sleep tonight. Those several hours he had already wasted on it would have to suffice.

Ciel left his bed and walked to the window. A chess table stood there, the game prepared yet still untouched.

It had been ages since he had played chess. The game always fascinated him but he rarely had patience to see it through. It had seemed wasteful to spend a lot of time on it when so many more entertaining activities waited for him. Now, though?

Ciel took a seat, watching the pieces thoughtfully, his eyes finally focusing on the king.

The most important chess piece that refrained from active actions for the majority of time. An observer who gained utmost relevance only towards the end of the game.

Symbolic. Almost ridiculously so.

Maybe he should practice his victory — and his inevitable demise. Playing against himself wasn’t going to provide him with a productive game but it could be a start. Later, he could use Sebastian as his opponent, and if — no, _when_ he managed to beat him, he would be able to beat anyone.

Comforted by this thought, Ciel chose his first piece and lost himself in the game.

 

 

***

 

 

 

During breakfast, Ciel still didn’t feel sleepy in the slightest, and although his temples began to pulse painfully, it was most likely in reaction to their upcoming trip. 

Sebastian hadn’t said much to him this morning. Was he actually insulted by Ciel pushing him away at night and telling him to leave? Since when did such trivialities offend him?

Sebastian was annoying whenever he was in one of his moods so Ciel steadily ignored him. His breakfast was served by Mey-Rin and Finnie, with Sebastian closely monitoring them, and since nothing was dropped and no one looked at him differently after tonight, he began to feel optimistic.

Until he noticed that Mey-Rin had brought wine and started to pour an entire glass for him.

“What is this?” Ciel demanded. “Why would I think I’d drink wine for breakfast? An entire glass of it!”

“Oh, Young Master, I’m so sorry!” Mey-Rin recoiled and her hands began to shake. “I didn’t, didn’t think, not at all. I’ll take it back to the kitchen!”

“No, wait—” Ciel knew how it was going to end even before it happened. Mey-Rin tried to grab the glass of wine and missed it, knocking it over instead. The red liquid spilled across the white tablecloth. Ciel jumped from his chair to save his clothes and then stared at the table, feeling a familiar sensation of his mind slowing down before coming to an abrupt halt.

In this dim lighting, it was easy to confuse wine with blood. Blood staining the table, the pool growing bigger as more children were sacrificed. Then being cleaned — only to spill again the next day.

He must have made some sort of sound because Sebastian’s eyes focused on him, attentive and amused.

“Come, now, Young Master,” he drawled derisively. “It is merely wine. Surely you don’t expect it to pose any danger to you?”

Ciel flinched from the viciousness of it, absurdly wounded and humiliated. His heart still tried to climb up his throat, making breathing and thinking difficult, but he opened his mouth anyway to retort when Baldroy exclaimed, “Hey, don’t talk to him like that!”

Both Ciel and Sebastian stared at him. Baldroy glowered at Sebastian before walking to Ciel and casually squeezing his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he said, and when Ciel was about to explode and start yelling at him, he added, “It happens to me, too.”

At this, Ciel found himself at the loss for words. Baldroy must have interpreted it as doubt because he repeated, “It sure happens to me. The memories wake up and you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. I was at the battlefield, you know, I saw many people die. Saw my friends die. It messes with your head. I can be smoking a cig outside and then I see myself back at the field, surrounded by the dead. There is no controlling that. Those who haven’t lived through it wouldn’t understand, aye, butler?” Baldroy glared at Sebastian who just looked back at him sourly.

Ciel briefly considered denying that he’d been in any way affected, but then he recalled Sebastian remarking how his approach to Baldroy hadn’t been intricate enough and changed his mind.

If his humiliation was needed to establish trust between them, then so be it.

“Thank you, Baldroy,” he forced himself to say, watching how surprise and pleasure crossed his servant’s face.

“Never mind that!” he said enthusiastically. “And do call me Bard, Young Master. Now, let us clean this up real quick. Mey-Rin, Finnie!”

Intrigued, Ciel observed how Bard easily gained control over others. They managed to remove the glass and the tablecloth, but the plate with his breakfast was dropped in the process, breaking into several pieces.

“This is the epitome of foolishness,” Sebastian stated coldly. “Was there ever a plate that you hadn’t dropped?”

Bard, Finnie, and Mey-Rin all lowered their heads guiltily, looking like scolded children. Ciel’s lips twitched in a mirthless smile.

He couldn’t summon the energy to be angry at them. He was too tired. He was still too upset with Sebastian.

“I’ll serve Young Master his breakfast by myself,” Sebastian concluded. “You three, go to the living room and finish reading the books I’ve assigned. It must teach you at least something.”

“Yeah, about that,” Bard exchanged glances with others before daring to look at Sebastian again. “I’m not that good at reading and Finnie and Mey-Rin can't read at all.”

“Can't read?” Sebastian asked after a pause, and the bewilderment in his voice made Ciel smile again, this time more genuinely. Seeing Sebastian taken aback for whatever reason was always fun. “Well. We can’t have that.”

Bard’s, Finnie’s, and Mey-Rin’s faces fell, but lit up again when Sebastian continued, “I’ll have to give you lessons on reading. The servants of the Phantomhive house cannot be illiterate.”   

“Sebastian!” Finnie and Mey-Rin looked like they were about to throw themselves on him in their joy and Sebastian’s eyes widened in alarm. This was obviously not the reaction he had been expecting.

“Later,” Ciel said sharply, although he would have enjoyed seeing how Sebastian would deal with being smothered in double embrace. “Sebastian, I trust it you remember that you and I have work to do.”

“Of course, my lord,” Sebastian sent the last wary glance to Finnie and Mey-Rin before focusing on Ciel entirely. “What did you have in mind?”

Ciel waited until the servants left the room before taking off his rings and thrusting them at Sebastian.

“Here,” he said. “You’re going to wear them.”

“Master?” Sebastian accepted the rings automatically but he looked utterly clueless.

“We’ll have to change places for our visit. Undertaker said that this Lyndon has bought himself a title recently. It means that he’s unlikely to know me, my age, or even about my predecessor’s death. You’ll play the role of Earl Phantomhive who is investigating the crime as per the Queen’s request and who is checking every businessman with ties to India. You have to make it seem like you don’t really suspect him and are visiting him out of obligation, to ask basic questions.”

“You want me to play you?” Mischief and anticipation entered Sebastian’s eyes and Ciel looked at him coldly.

“We don’t have any other choice,” he said. “I can’t go as myself because in this case, unless Lyndon is a complete idiot, he won’t go near me. And we need to use me as a bait.”

Sebastian’s mouth fell open and he stared at him astonishment. Amusement was gone, replaced by surprise and disbelief.

“You wish to be a bait?” he asked slowly. “While your courage is certainly admirable, Master, are you sure you will be able to play your part?”

“Do you have any doubts?”

“You’ve panicked at the sight of a spilled glass of wine just a moment ago. I hardly think that—”

“It’s a good thing that you don’t have to think, then, isn’t it?” Ciel snarled. “You’re my pawn. I’m the one who makes decisions. If I said I can handle it, then I can.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian lowered his head, hiding his eyes from Ciel. It was for the better as Ciel had no desire to know what he was thinking right now. He had been embarrassingly weak during the last twenty four hours and this had to change.

He would prove that he’s capable of handling all kinds of difficulties maturely. Whatever the cost.

 

 

***

 

 

Not having his rings on was irksome. Standing outside in clothes that befitted a servant was mortifying. Having Sebastian pose as an Earl, all smug and smartly dressed, was absolutely intolerable. 

“Our main task is to learn whether he has this drug,” Ciel said, trying not to sound as upset as he felt. “He is likely to deny it, especially if he’s guilty. My presence will distract him — we’ll be able to tell if he’s the one we need based on his reactions. If he is, you’ll excuse yourself and you’ll search his house. Remember, he mustn’t think that we suspect him.” 

“And you are certain that he will react to you even if he’s the killer? Are you so confident in your charms, Master?”

Ciel flushed, sending Sebastian a murderous glare.

“It will be clear,” he hissed. “As soon as you are sure, you will locate the drug in whatever closet he’s hiding it and the case will be over.”

“What if he asks me an unplanned question? Should I be silent?”

“Don’t be an idiot, of course you shouldn’t! Obviously I wouldn’t be able to give you instructions there, so say whatever you think will benefit our investigation most.”

“Understood,” Sebastian sent him a mysterious smile that made Ciel immediately wary.

He didn’t like that smile. It never resulted in anything good.

But there was no time for delays, so he nodded and Sebastian knocked on the door.

Lyndon was a surprisingly tall man around thirty. He greeted them himself, in something that resembled pyjamas, and Ciel started to sneer before he remembered his role.

No actual nobleman would allow himself to be this impolite. Didn’t Lyndon have servants?

“May I help you?” Lyndon asked, and then he glanced at Ciel and his eyes widened. His look changed into something Ciel could easily recognise, something that made him instantly nauseous. He tried to breathe, to stay in the present, but the gaze kept burning holes in him, sending the sickening, clammy fear through his very bones.

Sebastian stepped forward, shielding him from the view.

“Are you Frederick Lyndon?” he asked. Hidden behind his back, Ciel quickly regained his control.

Everything was fine. He could do it.

“Yes,” Lyndon replied finally. “And you are?..”

“I’m Earl Phantomhive,” Sebastian sounded so haughty that Ciel rolled his eyes in exasperation. The bastard was clearly mocking him, trying to imitate his tone of voice. “I’m investigating the case on behalf of Her Majesty. I know you are cooperating with Indian traders, so I’ll have to ask you a few questions.”

“But of course. Come in,” Lyndon moved away, peeking behind Sebastian’s shoulder and giving Ciel another long look. “And who would you be?”

He hadn’t thought of the name!

Ciel opened his mouth to blurt the first thing that came to him when Sebastian interjected smoothly, “It’s Finnian, my servant. I had to take him with me. The other servants will be gone for this weekend and he’s not experienced yet to trust him with my house.”

Finnian? Did Sebastian think it was funny?

“Oh, I understand,” Lyndon laughed. “As you can see, I had to dismiss my servants myself. I have a cook but it’s difficult to trust anyone these days, especially new people.”

They walked into the house and Ciel quickly surveyed the interior. Cheap, with the owner trying to make it look more presentable than it actually was.

Lyndon had either spent all his money on his title or he had other frequent sources of expense.

Ciel took a seat in the armchair that looked less atrocious than the rest of the furniture but jumped back to his feet, flushing, when Sebastian said sharply, “Finnie, stand up. Who told you that you could sit?”

Mortified, Ciel murmured an apology, hanging his head and hoping it would pass for regret.

His role wasn’t that difficult. Why was he failing?

“Do forgive his manners,” Sebastian turned back to Lyndon. “I found him in the midst of the winter, when he was on the brink of death. Such a small, pathetic thing — I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so I took him home and tried to nurture him back to health.”

Ciel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to count to ten in his head to calm down. Sebastian gave him an amused glance before sighing theatrically.

 “Unfortunately, he is not very bright,” he uttered sorrowfully. “I still can’t find any use for him. He fails at everything he tries to do.”

This time, Ciel had to count to twenty before he trusted himself enough to look at Sebastian and not try to murder him.

“You did a good thing by saving him,” Lyndon encouraged. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled more genuinely, probably deciding that if Sebastian was sharing something personal with him, he wasn’t a suspect. “Children are precious.”

Ciel stared at him and Lyndon, having caught his gaze, smiled wider.

“What is the case you’re investigating?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I cannot share the details with you. They are confidential.”

“But why did you decide to come to me?”      

“ _Her Majesty_ ,” Sebastian drawled, and Ciel wanted to hit him from how falsely adoring he sounded, “thinks that the perpetrator has close connections with India.”

“I wouldn’t say I have close ties with that country,” Lyndon laughed again, but this time, the sound was fake. “I’m just purchasing some toys from there for children. Charity and all.”

“Count Lyndon, may I be frank with you?” Sebastian leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I have no desire to bother noblemen like you. I’m sure that whomever the perpetrator is, he is among the East End dwellers, maybe even the Indians themselves. But the _Queen_ ,” Sebastian filled his words with mocking reverence again, “wishes for me to eliminate any chance that my suspicions might be incorrect.”

“I understand,” Lyndon relaxed again. “So, your visit is more for appearance’s sake?”

At this point, Ciel finally prepared himself enough for an act. With a sigh, he leaned against the chair, tilting his head and massaging his neck slowly, and with the corner of his eye, he saw how Lyndon drew in a sharp breath, staring at him and not looking away.

Sebastian’s lips stretched in an eerie, close-lipped smile.

“Yes, it is,” he said, and if Ciel hadn’t heard him speak in this exact tone before, he probably wouldn’t have recognised the seductive deadliness of it. “I apologise, may I use your washroom?”

Anticipation lit up anxiety and excitement in him and Ciel tensed, knowing what those words signified.

He would have to spend some time alone with Lyndon. But it also meant that this meeting was coming to an end because he had no doubts that Lyndon was the murderer they needed. He had to keep the drug somewhere in his house, and once Sebastian found it, the case would be closed.

Lyndon’s eyes stopped at him again, offensive and admiring. The weight of his stare felt almost physical but fighting the onslaught of memories was easier now that he knew the end was close.

“Finnian,” Lyndon said, and Ciel struggled to keep his face impassive. “How old are you?”

_As if it matters to you_ , Ciel thought darkly.

“Twelve,” he said aloud and Lyndon nodded.

“I thought so. You look just about this age. Does your Master treat you well?”

“He is most kind,” Ciel had to force every word out, knowing that Sebastian was undoubtedly listening and enjoying it. “Although he’s lazy and incompetent,” he added. “He even hired other people to handle his own responsibilities and failed to educate them prior to that.”

“How interesting,” Lyndon took several unhurried steps to him, still devouring him with his gaze. “Quite bold of you to speak that way of your Master. What would he do to you if he heard you?”

He stepped even closer. Rage and disgust threatened to overflow his bowl of self-control, but Ciel still managed to keep his mask on.

“Did he do it to your eye?” Lyndon closed the distance between them, raising his hand, and Ciel flinched from the sudden burst of fear, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to bear this man’s filthy touch yet that he also couldn’t strike by himself, not until Sebastian arrived.

Then Sebastian cleared his throat behind them and Ciel nearly staggered from relief.

Finally. It was over.

As soon as he saw Sebastian’s face, though, he tensed again.

Sebastian didn’t look like the case was finished.

“So, Count, may I ask you several questions? Where were you yesterday in the morning?” he asked, as carelessly as if nothing happened.

Ciel listened to useless questions and even more useless answers, growing more anxious by the second.

Something was wrong. Why was Sebastian continuing this game? Was it possible that he hadn’t found the drug? It couldn’t be it, could it?

“That would be enough,” Sebastian uttered at last. “I don’t think the Queen will have any questions for you.”

“It’s good to know it,” Lyndon grinned and glanced briefly at Ciel. “If you ever need anything else, the door of my house will be open for you — and for Finnian, of course.”

“Oh?” Sebastian raised a sceptical eyebrow. “His lack of grace doesn’t appal you?”

“Not at all. Children are lovely and innocent creatures. Sometimes, to achieve their full potential, they simply need a little push. Some warmth, some understanding.”

“You must have experience in such matters,” Sebastian tilted his head and his lips curled in a smile that Ciel could only call malicious. “Do you think you could teach Finnie something? As your servants are away, I could leave him with you for several days. Maybe a change of places will make him more organised. In fact, I would be grateful if you accepted him — he could help your cook while I’m gone. I will pay you, of course, and I assure you, my payments are always generous.”

For a second, Ciel was caught between shock and disbelief, unable to speak or to even think. Then horror came, fuelled by the sense of betrayal so intense that it blinded him temporarily, filling his head with white noise.

Sebastian couldn’t have just said it. Surely even he wasn’t demonic enough to suggest…

“Oh, I’d love to!” Lyndon’s palpable elation almost made Ciel vomit right then and there. “It will be an honour for me to assist you, Earl. I promise I’ll take the best care of him.”

“Then it’s decided,” Sebastian sent him a fleeting smile and focused his attention on Ciel. His gaze was expectant, as if he was waiting for Ciel to say something. 

What? What could he possibly say without screaming and without throwing every curse word he knew at Sebastian?

How could he do that to him?

“I’ll be going,” Sebastian said, still staring at him. He spoke slowly, as if giving Ciel time to react.

Did he think it was another game?

Game.

The wheels in Ciel’s head began to turn again, and even though he could feel tremors vibrating through him, weakening his already shaky self-control, somehow, he managed to stand up straighter.

It was a game all right. Sebastian must have been sure that he would be shaken enough to break down, to abandon the investigation in his panic after his ‘offer’. But to risk doing something as outrageous, he must have actually failed to find the drug — otherwise, he would have had no choice but to obey Ciel’s initial order.

And if the investigation wasn’t finished, then Ciel would do whatever was necessary to complete it. Disregarding the implications of such betrayal, the bastard’s plan wasn’t that bad.

“I will do my best to please you, Count Lyndon,” Ciel said as calmly as he could. He was rewarded by Sebastian’s eyes growing wide in shock. The bastard almost backed away, clearly stunned and unsure now that his plan had failed.

“You were leaving, weren’t you? Master?” Ciel drawled, staring at him in contempt. Sebastian nodded slowly, still hesitating, so Ciel turned to Lyndon.

“I will see him out,” he said politely. “If I’m to be your servant, I’ll prefer to start right away.” 

“What a good boy,” Lyndon said, pleased. “It’s fine. Do that and I’ll show you your room. Earl Phantomhive,” he bowed to Sebastian. “I’ll be waiting for your return but please do not rush. Finnie will be happy here.”

Sebastian didn’t even bother to reply, not taking his eyes off Ciel. Finally, he moved to the door, putting on his coat and still throwing glances at him. Was he anxious? Just surprised? Indifferent?

Who could tell with Sebastian?

Ciel took great pleasure in slamming the door in his face before he turned to Lyndon, hoping he looked collected enough.

Now that Sebastian was gone, the room had gone colder. Lyndon was openly leering and Ciel tried to ignore it, looking at the middle of his forehead to avoid his eyes.

“My room?” he asked.

To his relief, Lyndon didn’t touch him as they made their way upstairs, but he was still walking unbearably closely, making every hair on Ciel’s body stand up in agitation.

He just wanted to find himself behind the closed door. He would decide what to do and how to react then.

The room Lyndon brought him to was already prepared for someone. Ciel studied it critically, noting the made-up bed and candies on the side of the shelf, and then his gaze fell on the toy elephant waiting on a small table and he froze.

“Please, enjoy my hospitality,” Lyndon said with a grin. “I’ll go tell my cook to prepare dinner for one more person for today. I’ll call you when it’s ready and we’ll discuss your responsibilities, yes?”

Ciel nodded, unable to speak. Lyndon insulted him with one final look before he disappeared, closing the door, and Ciel exhaled, stumbling and nearly falling on the bed.

This day was proving to be much more terrible than he had expected. On the one hand, Sebastian did the right thing — hadn’t Ciel given him an order to say whatever he needed to solve this case? But making him into a bait like this…

Ciel could have let it pass, but he knew that the case had nothing to do with it.

Sebastian had done it deliberately, wanting to break him. Like he’d thought, Sebastian found his nightmares and his panic attacks irritating, a sign of weakness that deserved only contempt. So now he was locked in a house with a man who violated and murdered children, and unless he was ready to let Sebastian win, he had to hold on long enough for Lyndon to reveal himself.

Slowly, Ciel pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and held them there until he saw nothing but sparkles.

The mere thought of it sent a new wave of nausea up his throat, but he still hoped that Lyndon would attack today. If he was forced to spend an entire night in this house—

Misery and bitterness threatened to engulf him again and Ciel tried to swallow them down.

If he wanted victory, he had to stay strong. Sebastian was undoubtedly nearby, probably somewhere on the roof, waiting for his orders — or for him to change his mind and demand to be taken home.

Ciel wouldn’t allow him to win and he absolutely didn’t want to see him right now. Let him come when he would be in danger. Until then, the farther away Sebastian was from him, the better.

Ciel hid his face in the pillow, breathing like he had taught himself to, counting three and a half seconds before each breath.

_Sebastian hadn’t found the drug and he wanted to provoke Lyndon into direct assault. That was all_.

If he could believe this lie, maybe everything would be easier…

But he couldn’t allow himself such luxury, not again. At this point, he was too old to hide in illusions.   

 

 

***

 

 

When Lyndon called him for dinner, it was already getting dark outside. Ciel went downstairs, forcing a small smile on his face.

“Sit down,” Lyndon waved at the sofa. “I’ll bring us some tea.”

The way he was acting, it didn’t seem like he even had a cook. Was that a lie, too?

Ciel took one look at the dinner and wrinkled his nose in disgust. No respectable cook would make such an appalling mass of whatever this was. Even Sebastian had done much better when he was only starting to—

The thought brought a surge of hurt with it and Ciel forcefully banished it from his mind.

Lyndon returned with only one cup of tea, setting it in front of Ciel and smiling his disgusting smile again.

“You wouldn’t mind if I sat next to you, would you?” he asked, taking a seat nearby without waiting for his answer. “You haven’t replied before, what happened to your eye?”

“An accident,” Ciel said quietly, staring at the tea. Was the drug already in it? If yes, then Lyndon must have retrieved it and Sebastian must have heard it. Why hadn’t he come yet? Or maybe Lyndon didn’t intend to use the drug on him at all?

“Drink your tea,” Lyndon pushed the cup closer to him, making the distance between them even shorter.

What a caring host. So, there _was_ a drug in this beverage, or whatever it was. Where was Sebastian?

A new thought came to Ciel and all his fears about Lyndon faded in comparison to the wave of horror it evoked.

What if Sebastian had already grown tired of him? Maybe he didn’t want his soul any longer and wasn’t interested in their contract. Maybe his plan involved abandoning him with Lyndon and amusing himself by watching Ciel’s realisation, drinking in his terror and grief.

Black spots flared beneath his eyelids and Ciel barely kept himself from jumping to his feet and running away. It didn’t even matter where — he just knew he had to get out of here.

Everything in him tensed when Lyndon leaned even closer, raising his hand and moving to touch him, and while Ciel forced himself to keep still, he knew his control was in shreds. If this man touched him—

Lyndon suddenly disappeared. Ciel blinked, his mind too numb from fear to register what had happened, but when he looked to his right, he saw Lyndon lying next to the door, moaning and holding his bloodied forehead. Sebastian descended to the floor smoothly, and immediately, darkness crawled into the room, filling every corner with whispery shadows. Something clicked when he landed, and when Ciel craned his neck, he noticed the heels that had replaced his usual boots. Black feathers coloured the room in even darker shades, creating an ethereal-looking carpet.

Sebastian had taken his true form? He must be really angry.

Only then the realization that everything was over came to him, and the relief it brought was staggering. Ciel’s muscles went slack and he curled in the corner of the sofa, watching Sebastian but unable to do anything. He felt like he had been injected with the drug, after all — he couldn’t explain why his body chose to stop working now that the danger was over.

Sebastian turned to him and for a moment, Ciel was hypnotized by the redness and unearthliness of his eyes. Upon approaching, Sebastian kneeled, taking his hand in his carefully.

“Your rings, Master,” he uttered, and his voice sounded strange. Eerier but softer.

Ciel waited until Sebastian put his rings back on his fingers before pushing out, “So what was it about my order that you’ve twisted?”

A fleeting smile touched Sebastian’s lips, baring his fangs.   

“You ordered me to search his house,” he purred. “You didn’t order me to search _him_. He had the drug in his pocket the entire time.”

Oh. Well, Ciel had expected something exactly like this.

Bitter words rolled on his tongue, demanding to be let out, but he pressed his lips together tightly to avoid the temptation.   

Nothing had to be said. He knew Sebastian couldn’t be trusted — it was his own fault for loosening his wariness. 

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Sebastian was still holding his hand and Ciel thought about snatching it away. For the reason he couldn’t understand, though, he didn’t.

“Why would I back down from the challenge?” he snapped instead, suddenly furious. “Did you think I would be too scared to be left alone with him? I’ve lived through worse! I wasn’t sure about the drug and I was curious how long it would take for you to interfere. You endangered me.”

“I didn’t endanger you.”

Ciel scoffed in disbelief, but the burst of strength he had felt was already leaving, so he said nothing.

“I would have never let him touch you,” Sebastian said gravely. His eyes were still burning brightly, alight with admiration and fascination, and Ciel hated himself for how good this cheap display made him feel.

“What would you like me to do with him?”

This was a much safer topic. Ciel considered it carefully before replying, “Break every bone in his body. Don’t leave even one whole.”

Sebastian smiled again and then pressed his lips to Ciel’s hand.

“Yes, my lord,” he said.

Ciel watched how he turned and began to approach Lyndon, every step measured and deliberately slow. Lyndon, who was sitting up at this point, looking dazed, stared at him open-mouthed before letting out a scream.

“What are you?” he yelled. When Sebastian didn’t reply, his voice became more hysterical, “D-don’t come any closer! I’ll give you money, I’ll—”

“Even if you had money, I couldn’t be possibly interested in such utterly human things,” Sebastian said condescendingly. He was still walking, his heels clicking steadily, and Ciel pulled his knees to his chest, watching.

The room darkened further. A few more feathers fell and Ciel wondered where they disappeared to afterwards. The only feather he had ever seen remain was the one he had managed to grab during his first case, the one that was still tucked safely in his bedroom. Others vanished as soon as Sebastian regained his human form.

Sebastian’s heels clicked for the last time, and then there was a snap that made Lyndon scream. The sound was deafening but Ciel drank it in, smiling almost against his will. The second snap was louder, accompanied by shrieking so piercing, you would think Lyndon was being torn in two.

“No!” he wailed. “Please, please, no! Don’t! Whatever you are, you can have the boy, just leave me alone!”

“I can have the boy?” Sebastian repeated, chuckling derisively. “That boy is already mine.”

_Not until you help me fulfil my revenge_ , Ciel thought, but he didn’t feel invested enough to say it aloud. There was another crunching noise and Lyndon screamed again, this time also sobbing openly.

Exhaustion started to press against Ciel’s eyelids. He blinked twice and then closed his eyes, listening to Lyndon’s incoherent begging and to the sound of the breaking bones. To his ears, there was no music better than this.

 

He woke up from the feeling of fingers brushing against his cheek. The touch was instinctively familiar, with its coolness and the promise of safety, and Ciel knew it was Sebastian even before waking fully.

“My lord,” Sebastian called, and Ciel reluctantly looked up.

Oh, right. Lyndon’s house.

He peeked at the body sleepily but it seemed to be drowning in darkness, so he failed to distinguish anything but its vague shape.

“I must have done a poor job if you’ve managed to fall asleep despite all that screaming,” Sebastian said, amused.

“It was passable,” Ciel replied curtly. He tried to get up but his body still felt too numb and weak to cooperate. Frowning, he tried again, but nothing happened.

“Why can’t I move normally?” he asked. “Did he give me the drug somehow, after all?”

“No. I believe it’s simply stress,” Sebastian took his face in his hands and tilted his head back, studying his eyes and then touching his forehead. “You don’t display any other physical symptoms. Perhaps—”

He suddenly stopped talking. Then, before Ciel could understand what’s going on, he was grabbed, placed on his feet, and turned so he would be facing the door. It burst open a second later, with several police officers preceded by Randall storming inside. They all came to a halt upon seeing them.

“Phantomhive?” Randall asked slowly. “What are you doing here? And… what are you wearing?”

Sebastian stood behind him, with one of his hands pressed against the middle of his back to hold him up, hard and immovable like stone. After momentary confusion, Ciel leaned against it, knowing that to Randall, it must look like he was standing normally, without any help.

“Completing the case,” he said loftily, glad that at least his voice was working properly. “And my clothing is a reflection of that.”

“What case?”

Ciel furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you implying that you’ve forgotten what case I, and you, have been investigating? With such memory, I’m not surprised you had failed to find the murderer until now.”

“What are you talking about?” Randall growled. “We were informed about someone being tortured here. The neighbours said that there was an incessant screaming lasting for more than an hour. Unlike you, I’m investigating several cases at once and this one is—”

Ciel snorted loudly, interrupting him.

“Then you can go find something else to focus on. This house belongs to Frederick Lyndon. He’s the one responsible for the series of child murders. And since he’s dead, there is nothing to investigate.”

“Dead!” Randall gaped at him and then, for the first time, his eyes fell on the floor. Ciel could tell the exact moment he realised what he was seeing as he took a step back in clear shock before coming to his senses. The other officers also approached, studying Lyndon and then backing away, some of them gasping.

Randall stared at Ciel like he had never seen him before.

“What did you do to him?” his voice was hoarse. “How in the Lord’s name can you explain it?”

A surge of weakness sent black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Ciel leaned against Sebastian’s hand even more to reduce the strain that his body was claiming it felt before concentrating on Randall again.

“Why would you think I’d be willing to explain anything to you?” he asked. His word were somewhat slurred but Ciel hoped it would pass for sounding deliberately lazy. “I’ve found the murderer. The task the Queen has assigned to me has been completed. Lyndon won’t have to waste the Her Majesty’s time further by having more costs spent on him. East End children are safe again.”

“You little mons—”

“Commissioner!” One of the officers stepped forward, touching Randall’s sleeve carefully. Then he whispered something into his ear, so quietly that Ciel hadn’t heard it, but judging from how Randall’s face flushed angrily, he didn’t like it.

“He cooperates with the underworld!” he barked. “This is how he solved this case.”

“‘Solved’ is the only word that matters here,” Ciel commented coldly. Despite Sebastian serving as the wall he could lean against, his legs were slowly giving out, and unless he wanted to become a laughing stock in front of these people, he had to end this conversation soon. “You know who I am. You know what my role is. What else did you expect?”

Randall said nothing, seething silently, and Ciel smirked.

“I’m not finished here yet,” he said. “Take your people outside and wait for me to come out. Then you can have his body if you need it. You’ll find the Indian drug in his pocket and you’ll find the toy similar to the one retrieved from the last body in one of the rooms.”

If looks could kill, he would undoubtedly be dead right now, considering the hatred and disgust Randall’s glare emanated.

“You can’t command me,” he spat. “Neither I nor my people have to obey you.”

“Well, you do obey the Queen, don’t you? And since this is _my_ case and _I_ was the one to find the murderer, I have to finish everything for my report to her. Leave, now. I won’t repeat myself.”

“Be assured that I’ll be talking to the Queen as well,” Randall promised grimly. Then he nodded at the other officers and they all left, some of them throwing wary glances at Lyndon’s body.

As soon as the door closed, Sebastian scooped him up and Ciel sighed in relief, leaning his head against his shoulder.

“Finally,” he murmured. “Take me home now. Use some other exit.”

“But you told Lord Randall that you would call for him once you’re finished.”

“Let him wait,” Ciel’s eyes closed by themselves. “He’ll enter the house again soon or later.”

On the brink of his fading conscious, he heard, “Yes, my lord,” and buried his face in Sebastian’s jacket deeper.

Finally, safety.

 

 

***

 

 

Nightmares plagued him throughout the night, but he woke up only in the morning, which meant that he hadn’t made any noise to attract Sebastian’s attention. He still felt weak and lightheaded, but at least his body started to cooperate again.

Ciel looked forward to leaving London. What he didn’t expect was to be mauled by all three of his new servants who jumped on him the moment he walked into the dining room.  

“Young Master, it was so smart of you to solve the case!” Finnie exclaimed. Out of the three, he was the only clenching the side of Ciel’s coat gently, probably afraid to do more.

“It was so brave of you to confront the murderer by yourself!” Mey-Rin echoed, and Bard shook his shoulder enthusiastically.

“That’s what I call strategy!” he announced. “Sebastian told us all about it! Good job!”

Ciel was dumbfounded for a moment, torn between the desire to push them away and yell at them, forbidding them to ever touch him, and feeling strangely pleased at being praised.

Not that he needed it, but it was nice, to hear that his success was appreciated.

His servants really weren’t that bad.

“It was nothing,” he said coolly, untangling himself from their grip. “I was doing my job, that’s all. Will I be served breakfast today?”

“Certainly, Master!”

“Right away!”

Ciel watched them run from the room, almost tripping in their still-palpable excitement, and shook his head, feeling strangely fond.

Then he caught Sebastian’s knowing look and scoffed.

As if that demon understood anything about emotions.

 

Later, back at home, Ciel tried to focus on his correspondence, but his thoughts kept changing direction, dragging him back into the past.

The case was over. There was nothing to worry about. He could remove it from his memory and go on.

But no matter how many times he repeated it, he failed to get rid of the nauseating thoughts, of the crippling, infuriating fear that attacked him in short but intense bursts, making his hands grow clammy.

He felt in danger. Even now, sitting in his office, knowing that Sebastian would come as soon as he called, he felt threatened, to the point that he hadn’t experienced before, at least not after several months of his return.

Upset, Ciel left his office and went downstairs. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, wasn’t willing to acknowledge the longing to be in someone’s presence, but when he reached the living room, he stopped, with all his thoughts ending abruptly.

Mey-Rin, Finnie, and Bard were sitting at the table. Sebastian was standing in front of the fireplace, wearing his glasses, which meant that he was in a teacher mode.

“Wrong, Mey-Rin,” he said patiently. “Please check the notes again. Finnie? Your answer?”

“Uhm… ‘sh’, as in ‘shovel’?”

“Good example. The answer is still wrong, though,” Sebastian turned to Bard. “Bard?”

“I don’t have any answer yet,” Bard grinned sheepishly. Sebastian sighed, and Ciel, instantly recognising this sound as a sign of his growing annoyance, smiled.

Sebastian was a good teacher. Strict and demanding, but efficient and surprisingly patient. If anyone could teach Mey-Rin, Finnie, and Bard something, it was him.

Allowing himself one last look, Ciel backed away quietly, still smiling.

The smile left him when the distance between them grew and coldness replaced the warmth again, followed by familiar hollowness.


	9. Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful support and encouragement! I appreciate it way more than I can express. Sorry for the delay - I've lost my beloved pet and it hit me hard. Still, writing is a perfect cure.
> 
> This chapter is much kinder to Ciel than the last one - I wanted to give him and Sebastian some (relatively) quieter moments, something that they had to share in-between the cases. However, a few problems still occur ;)

Even though it was half past midnight, Ciel couldn’t sleep. He watched the shadows in his room dispassionately, waiting for his consciousness to fade, but when the hand of the clock moved towards one and nothing happened, he’d had enough.

Quietly, hoping that everyone had already gone to bed, he slipped off the bed and crept to the door. The kitchen had to be empty at this time and there had to be some dessert left after supper. Unless, of course, his fools of servants had secretly eliminated it.

Knowing that Sebastian would send him back to bed if he caught him, Ciel quickened his pace, looking around suspiciously. Despite all the time they’d spent together, he still didn’t know the limits of Sebastian’s hearing, and while he could ask directly, he knew Sebastian would be deliberately vague and uncooperative. The bastard loved taking him aback and letting him make wrong conclusions about his capabilities.

The kitchen was lifeless. A quick inspection showed that yesterday’s cake was indeed missing, but there was a tray full of freshly-baked cookies. Sebastian must have prepared them in advance.

Ciel gleefully grabbed the cookie and prepared to dash back to his room when loud voices sounded just behind the door. Before he could even register it properly, he dived under the long, narrow table that stood in the farthest corner of the kitchen, crawling behind one of the barrels under it.

For a second, he was caught between the outrage at his own undignified behaviour and the reluctance to crawl back and be seen stealing a cookie. Which was worse? And why did anyone choose to come in here now, when he was just about to leave!

As he was trying to determine which solution would be more embarrassing, the door opened and several people walked inside.

“And I’m telling you, I was right! Sebastian just doesn’t want to admit that my answers can be good, too.”

“Well, to be absolutely honest, Bard, they weren’t that good,” Mey-Rin noted carefully, and even without seeing them, Ciel knew that Bard must be scowling.

“If you weren’t distracted by making eyes at him—”

“What? I did not!” Mey-Rin yelped. “I most certainly didn’t!”

“What is this racket?”

Ciel froze, probably along with Bard and Mey-Rin, as Sebastian joined them. His displeasure was palpable to a degree that made Ciel shudder, hating the mere thought of being caught by Sebastian out of everyone in this pitiful condition, with a cookie in his hand.

“Mey-Rin,” Sebastian’s voice was cold. “I believe I’ve asked you to clean the kitchen.”

“Y-yes, you did, it’s just… I decided to help Bard to—”

…On second thought, he could probably leave the cookie behind one of the barrels and dispose of it in the morning.

Ciel glanced at the floor, then back at the cookie. The feeling of regret was rapidly drowning his common sense, so in the end, he picked another option.

Whether Sebastian already knew he was here or not, Ciel refused to be viewed as a child who couldn’t resist a dessert. Leaving it could still compromise him, so why not eat it while Sebastian was busy scolding his oblivious servants?

Satisfied with himself, Ciel bit into the creamy surface, hoping that any sounds he might make would be muted by the argument ensuing. Mey-Rin was apparently striving to place the tray with cookies in the refrigerator while Bard kept insisting that doing anything in the kitchen was his job. Honestly, they couldn’t even share their responsibilities without creating mayhem.

Mey-Rin won. Her feet moved towards the table with the cookies and Ciel cringed, suddenly glad that he’d managed to preserve at least one.

As he’d thought, this airhead failed to get to the refrigerator: she slipped on something and the tray went flying. Since none of the cookies landed on the floor, Ciel assumed that Sebastian managed to catch them on time, but to do that, he must have dropped whatever it was he’d been holding. There was a crash and Ciel forgot to take another bite, staring at the broken pieces of his favourite teacups.

Had this demon just dropped a tray with teacups to catch a tray with cookies?

Glowering, Ciel clenched his free hand into a fist, wishing he could tell Sebastian just what he thought about his priorities. However, it seemed that Sebastian was annoyed with himself as it was. There was a long, dark silence, and his voice was a menacing growl when he finally snapped, “Get out of my sight.”

Another pause. Then Mey-Rin cried, quietly but so despondently that Ciel’s heart twitched unwillingly in sympathy. He lowered his head to get a better look, wondering if he should have a conversation with Sebastian later. He wanted loyalty, not fear, and having his servants constantly reduced to tears wouldn’t do.

On the other hand, they truly were hopeless and risked embarrassing him at any event he might have to host in the future. How could he trust them to appear in front of the guests?

Nonetheless, an involuntarily relief surged through Ciel when Bard stepped to Mey-Rin and wrapped his hand around her shoulders. His other hand stroked her hair lightly before sliding down her neck and squeezing it.

“Never mind,” he said cheerfully, throwing a wary glance at Sebastian. “We’re still learning, aren’t we?”

Mey-Rin sniffed but stopped crying, giving Bard a weak smile.

“Learning how to fail every single task assigned to you,” Sebastian uttered lowly. He kept staring at them with such strange intensity that Ciel blinked, confused, unsure of what to make of it. Then he backed away, hiding from view again and pressing closer to the wall.

“You’re the one who dropped the cups!” Bard protested and Ciel almost groaned. It was the worst thing Bard could possibly say right now.

This time, the silence was so tense that Ciel started to seriously wonder if he should interfere before Sebastian killed both of his servants and they were forced to look for someone else. However, Sebastian’s voice was surprisingly pleasant when he said, “You have precisely four seconds to leave the kitchen. One. Two. Three—”

Based on the sounds, Bard and Mey-Rin broke into a run to reach the door before Sebastian finished counting. Ciel stopped breathing for a moment, hoping that Sebastian would clean up and leave, and his eyes widened when instead, he turned and began to slowly approach his table.

Mortified, Ciel squeezed the half-eaten cookie, but before he could throw it behind one of the barrels, Sebastian drawled, “My, my, Young Master. We have taken to spying now?”  

Damn him.

Ciel took a deep breath, put on his calmest mask and crawled out from under the table.  

“We haven’t,” he said coolly. “I merely wanted to avoid having a conversation with those morons.”

“And what were you doing in the kitchen in the first place? Oh, let me guess,” Sebastian stepped closer and snatched the cookie from his hand, smiling mockingly. “My little lord can’t fall asleep without consuming more sugar.”

“If so, then you didn’t put enough sugar in the evening’s dessert,” Ciel retorted automatically. He knew there was nothing he could say to actually defend himself, but he still wasn’t going to let Sebastian have the last word.

Sebastian sighed, then bent down and grabbed him by the chin firmly, pulling him close.

“We will count this éclair as your morning portion of dessert, Young Master,” he purred, and Ciel flushed, embarrassed for a reason he didn’t understand. Shaking himself free, he stepped away, putting more distance between them, glaring.

“Don’t tell me what to eat!” he announced. Sebastian simply stared at him and finally, Ciel was forced to relent. “Fine,” he grumbled. He couldn’t really argue with Sebastian when he was right, not when Ciel himself had ordered him to put his well-being above everything else.

He stormed towards the door but then paused.

“You’ve dropped the tray with teacups,” he uttered, and Sebastian’s left eye twitched. Ciel lifted his head higher, gleefully thrilled.

“You decided to catch the cookies but you’ve destroyed my favourite tea set,” he added. “You couldn’t catch all of those things at once?”

“I apologise for my clumsiness, Master,” Sebastian said, sounding subdued, as if he had to force the words out. “I assure you this mistake won’t be repeated.”

“Of course it won’t, you’ve already broken everything,” Ciel looked at the ruined pieces in disdain. “Buy a new tea set tomorrow. I want Haviland, in blue, gold, and white.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian bowed and Ciel finally left, smirking.

Despite this embarrassing situation, he still managed to emerge as a victor.

He might not get his dessert tomorrow morning but let Sebastian look for Haviland tea set, which was a rarity in London, in colours that didn’t exist.

That would be entertaining.

 

 

***

 

 

To Ciel’s deepest regret, he couldn’t send Sebastian on a chase after the non-existent tea set in the morning. The day started with a visitor that Ciel had never expected to see in his house, with the plea for help he’d never thought he’d get.

“I’m not _pleading_ for your help,” Sir Arthur Randall growled, his face twisted in an ugly scowl. “Her Majesty wishes for this situation to be dealt with and she recommended that I involve you in the investigation. That’s all.”

“Is it?” Ciel tilted his head, letting his lips curl upwards. The swell of arrogant satisfaction in his chest that Randall’s visit had brought compensated for his stolen chance to complicate Sebastian’s life. “From what I understand, you are asking me to handle all the matters myself, without your direct participation.”

“You have connections with the underworld. Your influence there surpasses my own.”

“I wasn’t aware you had any,” Ciel smirked, watching how Randall’s face grew redder. “Let me clarify. There is an issue with the increasing number of drugs transported by the sea and discharged in the local ports. Since neither you nor your people have any means to affect the dealings of the underworld, you’ve faced a dead-end and came to me for help. You want me to eliminate those who participate in drugs exchange and intimidate the ports so no one would allow an unsanctioned ship to enter again.”

“I did not say ‘eliminate’. Is murder the only thing you understand?”

“Well, if you could arrest them, you would have already done that. Am I wrong?” Ciel lifted his eyebrow, and as Randall spluttered, he exchanged a brief, amused smile with Sebastian.

Randall was too proud and law-abiding to admit the truth aloud. If so, Ciel mused, he would have to be pushed a little further.

“I will solve this problem,” he said, sending Randall his most innocent smile. “I’ll start with the docks in the Port of London. However, I’ll require payment for my services.”

With the corner of his eye, Ciel noticed how Sebastian’s smile widened, and familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, increasing his confidence.

“Payment?!” Randall jumped to his feet so abruptly that he hit the table. His teacup shook dangerously and Ciel couldn’t help but notice how Sebastian jerked as if to catch it. His mirth grew, brushing against his ribs, and he had to hide his smirk by pressing his fist to his lips and pretending to cough.

Sebastian was clearly worried that another tea set was going to be ruined.

He was right to worry. Ciel would gladly send him for several more sets, coming up with new non-existent colour combinations.

“Yes, payment,” he replied as he regained control over his voice, though his every word still rang with amusement. “I won’t help you for free.”

“This is for Her Majesty, you insolent brat!”

“Watch your tone,” Ciel warned. His good mood evaporated suddenly, replaced by the biting coldness.

He hated being disrespected. He hated being reduced to a child every time someone disagreed with him.

“I was under impression,” he said coldly, “that you came here to ask for my help. You know you can’t do what Her Majesty requires but you still want to receive Her recognition by completing the task with my hands. I’m willing to assist. However, insulting me is not the best way to get a favourable answer.”  

Randall clenched his hands into fists, probably in attempt to fight the impulse to strangle him.

“Fine,” he hissed finally. “What do you want? Money?”

This man was truly an idiot.

“I have no need for your money,” Ciel said in disgust. “Do you honestly think you could offer anything of substance to me financially? You’re forgetting yourself.”

Randall growled something barely decipherable under his breath and Sebastian frowned.

“Please avoid using such language in the presence of my Master,” he said, and although his words sounded friendly, Ciel easily sensed a coiling displeasure under their surface. “And I can assure you, this won’t happen.”

Interesting. Had Randall threatened him?

Considering how shocked and then mortified he looked upon realising that Sebastian had heard him, yes.

“I apologise,” he said so slowly, as if every syllable pained him. “What would you like in return for your assistance?”

Whatever he’d said, it had to be terribly bad.

“I’ll need two things,” Ciel uttered. “The first one is the immunity for one of my people. I want Scotland Yard to ignore everything he engages in — and by that, I mean _everything_.”

“You can’t ask for something like that!” Randall spat. “Scotland Yard is forced to tolerate your underworld dealings as it is. Do you want the criminals to lose the last bits of respect towards the law?”

“Scotland Yard is creating unnecessary raids that send only a handful of pawns in prison,” Ciel countered. “I’m maintaining a sufficient control over my districts. My underworld representative knows what he can and can’t do because I’m the one who sets limits for him. I don’t want him disturbed even occasionally because it creates numerous problems that you wouldn’t be able to start to comprehend.”

Randall looked like he was about to have a heart attack from his impotent fury. Fighting another smile, Ciel nodded at Sebastian and he stepped to Randall, bowing a little.

“Would you like another cup of tea, Lord Randall?” he asked. “Perhaps a late breakfast?”

“Who do you want this immunity for?” Randall demanded, and Ciel leaned against his chair more comfortably.

“I believe my butler has asked you a question,” he noted lazily.

If looks could kill, he would definitely drop dead under the force of Randall’s glare. Randall was almost trembling with rage as he turned to Sebastian and spat, “I’ve already eaten. I don’t need anything.”

Sebastian bowed again before retreating to his former place. His eyes were lit up with dark satisfaction that Ciel knew his own gaze mirrored.

“Lau,” he said, glancing back at Randall. “The Head of the British branch of the Chinese trade company. It’s known as "Kunlun".”

“I know who he is,” Randall grimaced in distaste. “An outsider.”

“Do you agree to this requirement?”

“Yes, damn you. What’s the second one?”

“I’ll be needing some information. In particular, some files that only Scotland Yard has access to. I’ll contact you later with more details.”

Randall muttered something again, so lowly and furiously that Ciel failed to understand it.

“That won’t happen either,” Sebastian said, sounding bored, and Randall jerked his head up in astonishment.

“How—” he started but Ciel interrupted him.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Randall sent him another vicious glare. “Let me know when you complete the task.”

“I will,” Ciel promised, allowing himself a condescending smile.

 

From the window, he watched how Randall’s carriage departed. When it disappeared from view, Ciel sighed and dropped back onto his chair.

“We’ll have to go to London,” he said. “While I’ll let Lau arrange everything, I still want to stay close in case we’ll need to interfere.”

“You don’t sound happy about it,” Sebastian remarked and Ciel gave him a sour gaze.

“Of course I don’t. We’re likely to spend an entire week in the house with nothing to do.” Ciel glared at his now-empty cup of tea. “These types of cases are the most boring but technically, they are my main responsibility.”

“Understood,” Sebastian’s eyes lingered on him, piercing and attentive, and a twinge of suspicion stirred inside Ciel.

That gaze never led to anything good.       

However, Sebastian sounded as nonchalant as ever when he asked, “Will we be going today?”      

“Yes,” Ciel replied slowly. Sebastian lips twisted in a brief, mischievous smile, and suspicions grew, hissing in warning angrily. Still, no matter how hard he tried, Ciel couldn’t figure out what this warning might be. What could Sebastian be possibly plotting here? There were no orders that he could twist to his advantage. Maybe he simply wanted to go to London, away from the servants?

Ciel could understand this desire.

“So, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Prepare everything.”

Sebastian bowed, but his little smile didn’t disappear.

“Yes, my lord,” he uttered.

 

***

 

 

When they arrived, the sky had only begun to gather dark clouds, turning into one huge splash of grey. By the time Ciel finished arranging everything with Lau and locked himself in his London house office, the thunder was already making the walls shake, filling his ears with hateful noise and distracting him from work.   

He disliked rain, especially when he was alone in the house. The only source of comfort was that he’d sent Sebastian to London shops in search of the Haviland tea set — imagining him in this storm, going from one shop to another, was funny enough to lighten Ciel’s darkening mood.

He stared at the pile of Funtom correspondence again, depressed at the very thought of having to compose answers to each letter today. Why did everyone want to speak to him in particular? And why were so many employees willing to deceive him? How long would it take for everyone to understand that his age didn’t mean he was brainless?

Annoyed, Ciel took another letter… and then stopped.

A strange, eerily familiar acrid smell started to fill the room. Bitter, toxic, revolting — the smell of death itself.

Ciel jumped up, wide-eyed, unable to believe what he was seeing. A plume of smoke billowed from beneath the door, spreading and crawling to him in misty clouds. His lungs constricted even before it reached him, reacting to the memory of it rather than to its actual impact, and the effect was so intense that it made him choke. Nausea boiled and Ciel doubled over, holding his mouth, terrified and incredulous. 

Why the fire? How could it happen again, here?

“Sebastian!” he hissed, backing away, closer to the window. “Sebastian, come!”

Nothing happened, only the coils of smoke spread further, licking his boots greedily. There was no fire yet but the smoke was so thick that it destroyed his ability to see, trapping him in a suffocating mist where only the frantic thumping of his heart could be heard.

Ciel clung to the part of his mind that stubbornly fought the panic, persuading him that Sebastian would come before the smoke engulfed him completely, before the fire came, but fear grew at a terrifying speed, thrusting the images of his father sitting in his armchair, unmoving, surrounded by the flames. Ciel could almost feel their burning touch, sense their liquid hotness threatening to spill right over him, and with the last efforts, he took a deep shuddering breath, trying to stay calm.

Seeing nothing but smoke was only scaring him more so he closed his eyes, pressing his back against the wall, and waited.

No matter what his mind was telling him, this was not the past. This was the present. And in the present, he had a demon on his side who would drag him even from the hell itself — a demon who was obligated to protect him until their contract was fulfilled.

Ciel focused on this thought so intensely that when someone touched his shoulder, he flinched violently, stopping himself from crying out only at the last moment, recognising who this touch belonged to. His eyes flew open and he saw Sebastian’s confused face.

“Young Master?” he asked. “What’s wrong? You called for me.”

“What do you mean, what’s wro—” Ciel fell silent, staring at the room. At the smoke-free room.

Everything looked normal. There was no smoke, no acrid smell — only the thunder outside kept roaring, accompanying the constant thudding of the rain.

Slowly, Ciel stood up, feeling at a loss.

Had he lost himself in another vision from the past? But it had never happened like this before. He’d never seen such vivid images when he wasn’t asleep, and he had certainly never imagined the fire, or the smoke, for that matter. So what was it?

Still shaken, Ciel glanced at Sebastian and managed to catch a fleeting satisfied smirk on his face. It was gone in an instant, though, so he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t imagined it.

And even if it was real, why would Sebastian set the room on fire? He could be malicious — he _was_ malicious, but doing something like that for no purpose?

Ciel rubbed his forehead tiredly, hoping to soothe the painful pulsing in it. His thoughts were scattered, still intoxicated by the smoke that had apparently never been here to begin with, so he stumbled towards his table, looking at the letters blankly.

“Young Master?” Sebastian repeated patiently. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“No,” Ciel shook his head. “It’s fine. Did you find the tea set?”

“I’m afraid not. I had checked three shops before you summoned me — if you’d like, I can resume searching right away.”

“No,” Ciel said again. Another crashing wave of thunder split the sky and he winced. The sound echoed in his head, intensifying the already burning headache. “Stay in the house,” he added. After what happened, he didn’t want to be alone, even if it meant that his tea set would have to wait.

“As you wish. Would you like me to make you some tea?”

“Yes.” Ciel watched how Sebastian left the room and something about him struck him as odd. Only when he disappeared behind the door, Ciel realised what it was.

Sebastian was dry. If he had been checking different shops and then rushed back to the house, he was bound to get at least something wet — his hair, his clothes… anything.

Suspicions shifted in his chest again, unpleasant and stifling, and Ciel leaned against his chair, staring at the ceiling.

It was pointless to try and guess. If Sebastian had decided to play some game, his intentions would become clear sooner or later. Ciel just had to wait — and make him pay dearly once he figured everything out.

 

 

***

 

He supposed he should have guessed that after that strange occurrence with the smoke, a nightmare would inevitably follow. This time, Ciel dreamed of the flames, so blindingly orange that it hurt to even look at them. They were everywhere, blocking every exit, and whenever he turned, he saw his parents’ bodies.

_It was strange because he was sure that he’d seen them dead together, on the floor of their bedroom, his Father holding his Mother in a protective embrace even now. Yet when Ciel ran to find help, when he stormed into the living room, he saw his father again, this time sitting in an armchair. As if someone or something had carried him there, right in the middle of the fire, separating him from his wife._

_Which of these visions was the truth? What happened that day?_

This nightmare was far from being the worst but Ciel still woke up gasping, his heart desperately trying to claw out of his chest. Tiredness and helpless fury at being so weak that every tiny incident could trigger him were maddening, and Ciel hit his bedside table with all his strength, fighting the urge to scream.      

Why did it have to happen to him time and time again? Why couldn’t he sleep peacefully? Five days ago, the nightmares that had been haunting him after Lyndon finally stopped, and he treasured each night that he was able to spend without waking. Now, apparently, he was back to where he started, so more sleepless nights for him, more dreams that didn’t even make sense.

Ciel pressed his hands into his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, but it didn’t help. His heart kept accelerating, his brain kept persuading him that he couldn’t breathe, and panic, irrational and vague, was rapidly absorbing him, pushing him to run, run, run.

This impulse was so strong that Ciel concentrated on corralling it entirely, forgetting what and where he was. The next thing he knew, someone’s hand slid up his shoulders. Another hand touched his hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture before moving down his neck, giving it a light squeeze.

Ciel relaxed before he even understood what was happening. The touch was instantly familiar, soothing in its protectiveness, and he leaned into it readily, feeling how the fog in his mind began to clear. Then the strangeness of the situation sobered him up completely and he blinked, staring at Sebastian in surprise.

What had gotten into him? Sebastian was never so tactile. In fact, after his hesitant and failed attempt during Lyndon’s case, he had ignored Ciel’s nightmares altogether, not even coming to his room unless Ciel called for him. So why now? Why such drastic change?

Ciel wanted to ask but a cowardly part of him didn’t want to spoil the moment. Sebastian was still touching the back of his neck, watching him attentively, and Ciel stayed silent, grateful that his heart was calming down.

Sebastian repeated his set of movements, caressing his back, then his hair, then his neck again, still staring at him as if Ciel was an object of some fascinating study, and Ciel’s jaw nearly dropped when he finally realised what was happening.

Sebastian was mirroring humans again, this time choosing Bard as his behaviour model. Ciel remembered him studying how Bard comforted Mey-Rin in the kitchen, and now he was doing the same, observing the results of his movements curiously.

Another thought came, darker but equally perplexing.  

Had Sebastian deliberately created some sort of fire illusion to encourage another nightmare? He must have wanted to try his new method of giving comfort and didn’t want to wait. But why would this crazy plot even occur to him?

Sebastian’s lips curled in a small, pleased smile as he noticed how Ciel calmed down, and he repeated his movements like the fool he was, probably thinking that the comforting shoulders-hair-neck pattern was a magic secret of humans.

Ciel knew he should be angry for such stunt, for such unbelievable, outrageous disobedience, but hysterical laughter was tearing from his chest and he could no longer hold it. He giggled, knowing he must look utterly stupid, but even this thought didn’t help. Sebastian’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he stared at him in astonishment, as if Ciel giggling, especially in such circumstances, was the most unexpected thing.

His astonishment was too much to bear. This time, Ciel burst into a genuine laughter, falling on his bed and trying to cover his mouth to mute the sounds. Sebastian’s surprise turned into palpable disbelief, and then his face took on such an affronted look that Ciel laughed again, loudly and uncontrollably.

This was unbelievable. Sebastian must have finally decided that a good butler should be able to comfort his Master in the moments of distress and started looking for clues. After catching Bard comforting Mey-Rin, the stupid demon thought that repeating the same movements mechanically over and over again was a secret to calming Ciel down, and that the more times he repeated this pattern, the better results he would get.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling well again, Master,” Sebastian said icily. Ciel tried to reply but failed, remembering the smugness on Sebastian’s face as he touched his shoulders, hair, and neck repeatedly, like they were some secret magic spells he’d discovered.

Sebastian stiffened even more, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Ciel’s continued laughter.

“Is something wrong with you again?” he asked, his voice still cold. “Should I bring you anything?”

“No,” Ciel managed to choke out. “Just leave. I’m going to sleep now.”

Sebastian studied him for a moment before nodding sharply and disappearing from the room, almost slamming the door shut.

Ciel was still grinning from the absurdity of it all when he fell asleep again.

 

 

***

 

In the morning, both he and Sebastian pretended that nothing happened. Sebastian was fulfilling his duties as impeccably as always and Ciel watched him occasionally, wondering how someone so hopeless at some things could be so perfect in others.

Since they had no plans for the next several days, Sebastian insisted on doubling the amount of his lessons. Ciel didn’t mind, exactly, but he couldn’t help but feel wary. Sebastian was undeniably insulted at his reaction to his efforts last night, and he was petty enough to take it out on him during their lessons, the only time when Ciel couldn’t rebuke him.

Determined to not give Sebastian a chance to punish him today, Ciel focused on his tasks vigorously, extracting every little bit of knowledge from his mind and pouring them into his answers. Sebastian, contrary to his expectations, seemed delighted with his progress. As he was checking Ciel’s calculations, Ciel watched him with the corner of his eye, noting another interesting fact. Sebastian’s pointer, which he used for hitting him for every mistake, was missing today.

Come to think of it, it was missing during other lessons, too, for quite a while now. Had he stopped making mistakes, so Sebastian stopped bringing it?

Maybe his progress was even better than Ciel’d thought initially.

“Absolutely correct,” Sebastian concluded, drawing something on the paper with exercises and giving it back to Ciel. “I suggest a short break, Master. I’m going to make you tea and then we can proceed to a violin lesson.”

“Violin,” Ciel grimaced, his mood souring. He disliked playing as much as Sebastian seemed to be enamoured with music. Ciel sincerely doubted he would ever need this useless skill in his line of work, so Sebastian’s fixation on it was annoying at best.

“Every nobleman must know how to play musical instruments,” Sebastian uttered, taking off his glasses and checking the time. “You will marry Lady Elisabeth one day. She will appreciate your skills.”

“What?!” Ciel exclaimed, a burning sensation hitting his cheeks. “That’s ridiculous! If it’s the only reason why you’re making me have these lessons—”

“Does Young Master not intend to marry?” Sebastian inquired innocently and Ciel glowered at him.

“Don’t even talk of such things! And unless you’re planning to stretch my revenge for decades, I’m never going to be old enough to marry.”

Amusement faded from Sebastian’s face, replaced by what looked like genuine surprise.

“I believe young men can marry as soon as they turn fourteen these days,” he noted. “You don’t expect to live even to that age?”

Ciel stood up, mortified that such conversation was happening at all. And with whom? A demon!

“Women of noble birth tend to marry later,” he hissed. “And if you do your job properly, marriage will never be one of my problems. Now cease this pointless discussion! Bring me my tea.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian bowed, but he still looked strange, as if he hadn’t expected to receive such answer. When he finally left, Ciel huffed, moving to the window and crossing his arms.

He had never considered the specific timeframe of his revenge, he just knew he wanted it to happen sooner rather than later. Living to fourteen? Maybe. Maybe even to fifteen. But his search couldn’t take longer than that. The more time passed, the more difficult finding the culprits was going to get. And helping Ciel complete his revenge quickly was in Sebastian’s own interests — unless, of course, he truly enjoyed being a butler… which was just laughable.

Marriage.

Ciel shivered with disgust at the very notion and went back to his chair.

He’d never thought there would be things for which he’d feel glad to be too young.

 

 

***

 

 

Learning a new composition was as boring as Ciel knew it would be. He tolerated Sebastian’s instructions, his fleeting yet constant touches aiming to improve his posture, and the sounds the violin made, which, frankly, he found quite unimpressive. When an hour had passed and Sebastian still urged him to go on, Ciel told himself that he would play one last time. One last time and he would discard the violin, regardless of Sebastian’s wishes.

The composition was coming to an end and Ciel prepared to declare that he’d had enough when his gaze fell on Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian’s eyes were closed, his lips arched in a pleased, relaxed smile. He looked so peaceful that Ciel was taken aback for a second, unable to believe that his playing could captivate a being like him.

The melody ended but Ciel restarted it immediately, watching how Sebastian’s smile widened in response and how he tilted his head, obviously enjoying himself.

Warm pleasure flooded his chest and Ciel concentrated on playing, suddenly much more mindful of his abilities. His unexplainable enthusiasm broke through his boredom and this time, he tried to put all his efforts into what he was playing, glancing at Sebastian occasionally to make sure that he was still enjoying it.

The belated annoyance at his own reaction came at him only on the final part of the composition. As soon as Ciel finished it, he put the violin and the bow down, unable to believe that he’d modified his plans just to please the demon. What’s gotten into him? Who cared whether Sebastian was enjoying himself? If he liked violin music so damn much, he could play it himself.

However, despite his resentment, he couldn’t help but recall the blissful, carefree look on Sebastian’s face, and feel pleased at being the one who evoked it.

And it made his resentment grow.

 

 

***

 

 

The storm didn’t seem to be waning. On the contrary, it grew stronger in the next two days, to the point where even correspondence stopped being delivered, and Ciel was slowly losing his mind out of boredom.

Now that he’d finished composing all his replies, there was nothing to do with his time. He had lessons, read books, and played chess, sometimes against himself and sometimes against Sebastian. That was it.

He needed work.

When another evening came, Ciel had an idea.

“You wish to do what?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

“I’m going to devise a tabletop game,” Ciel said again, his brows furrowing at the need to repeat himself. “I’m not sure I’ll make it a part of Funtom production later, so as of now, the primary audience is myself.”

“Indeed?” Sebastian drawled sarcastically. “Have you finally become interested in toys, Young Master?”

“Don’t be absurd. I just want to try something new.”

“If I may ask, how do you plan to start?”

It was Ciel’s turn to smirk.

 

Later, he and Sebastian were sitting on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, surrounded by numerous construction elements, each busy with his own task. Ciel was working on the thick, hard cardboard sheet Sebastian had delivered, dividing it into parts and planning what each part would entail. Sebastian was cutting an endless supply of newspapers into tiny parts, still emanating displeasure at being forbidden to use his demonic powers.

Ciel wasn’t sure that all paper bits had to be of the same size, but it was funny to order Sebastian to make them 0.7 inches long and 0.4 inches wide precisely. Sebastian had refused to use anything for measurement, claiming that his eyes were far more accurate than any device, and Ciel promised himself that he would measure each and every one of the paper bits later to test this statement.

“Young Master, would that be enough?” Sebastian nodded at the huge pile of paper pieces.

“It will suffice for now,” Ciel acknowledged before focusing on the cardboard again. “You may leave now.”

He was so consumed by his work that when Sebastian suddenly appeared right next to him, peering at the cardboard, Ciel almost jumped.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked. Ciel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, dubious that Sebastian could be interested in some game, but his curiosity appeared sincere. 

“This will be a board,” he replied finally. “We’ll make game pieces out of those bits of newspapers you’ve cut. Then there will be dices or something similar that will determine how many steps forward a player will make. There will also be obstacles on his way that will affect his progress.”

“So you’re thinking of what these obstacles will be?” Sebastian leaned over the would-be board, checking what Ciel had already marked. “‘ _Charmed by the dead_ ’. What does it mean in terms of the game?”

“That the player who happens to enter this area is out for one turn. This one,” Ciel pointed at another piece of the board, “will send the player ten steps back.”

Sebastian let out a thoughtful sound, still staring at the board. Then he said, “Interesting,” and Ciel’s eye widened. 

He’d intended to make Sebastian work on the game out of pettiness. He never imagined that Sebastian could become actually interested in it. After all, Ciel wouldn’t have been interested in it either, he just had nothing better to do.

“May I make several suggestions?” Sebastian wondered and Ciel shrugged.

“You may,” he said. “In fact, you may have this side of the board. But keep in mind that we’ll have to make drawings for each idea — the board cannot be blank.”

Sebastian nodded and took a pencil, clearly concocting some obstacles already, and Ciel wondered what kind of things a demon could come up with.

This whole game development was turning out to be far more engaging than he’d first thought it would be.

Time flew by so quickly that Ciel didn’t even notice how the clock struck midnight. Sebastian raised his head, looking briefly perplexed, before letting out a dejected sigh.

“It’s past your bedtime, Master,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ve been negligent in my duties.”

“Let me see what you’ve done first,” Ciel shifted closer to Sebastian’s side, studying his part of the board curiously.

Apart from writing, Sebastian had also drawn some drafts of the future pictures. Ciel hummed, unsure of what to think of some of them. A piece titled ‘ _Popular Fallacies_ ’ depicted a dead woman with dissected brain. Then there was ‘ _A Quiet Sunday in London’_ , showing London rebels fighting against the police. Was it another subtle attempt of Sebastian to undermine the Queen’s system of governance?

Sebastian’s work was more intricate than Ciel had thought. He’d have to spend a while in attempt to figure out the meaning of some of his additions, both textual and subtextual ones. For some reason, Ciel didn’t doubt that each of them was far more malicious than the openly gruesome things he himself had come up with.

Sebastian, though, seemed suitably intrigued by them.

“‘ _Lost a Limb_ ’?” he wondered.

“I want to draw a forest of death here,” Ciel said, glancing at the words he’d written. “If the player stops at this area, he will lose his legs. All his subsequent scores will be divided into two because—”

“…he’ll be able to cross only half the distance,” Sebastian finished for him, smiling a sharp, fangs-filled smile. “How positively bloodthirsty of you, Master.”

“That’s a special game,” Ciel noted, unable to hold back a satisfied smirk.

“‘ _A Den of Poison’_? Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t it resemble—”

“Of course it does. I can’t breathe long after we leave Lau’s little basement, so I thought at least one part of the game should reflect it.”

“And what will happen to the player?”

“When his next turn comes, he’ll be moving backwards. Poisoned smoke does soften one’s brain.”  

“I see,” Sebastian’s eyes lit up and Ciel lowered his head to hide his smile. Of all things Sebastian could be interested in, it was their self-made tabletop game? Ciel didn’t really want to know, but sometimes he wondered what kind of life Sebastian had to lead to be so captivated by the most trivial things.

Still deeply amused, he glanced back at Sebastian’s side of the board and raised his eyebrows at the sight of one of the sketches.

Fire. He should have expected this. Sebastian loved playing games.

“‘ _Burning at the Stake_ ’,” Ciel read, trying to sound calm. “It looks different from your other sketches. What’s the idea here?”

“Fire is something that even demons are wary of,” Sebastian replied. “Not all kinds of fire, but some of them might be dangerous even to our kind.”

“Fire means death. If the player steps here, he will automatically lose?”

“Not exactly,” Sebastian’s grin acquired even sharper angles. “I thought it would be fitting if the player had to miss his turn every second time until the end of the game.”  

“Every second time?” Ciel frowned, considering it. “That’s harsh.”

“Games often are,” Sebastian touched the picture of the fire almost lovingly. “Especially games played by you, Young Master.”

Well, he was right.

“All right,” Ciel decided. “Then it’s set for now. We’ll start making actual drawings—”

“Tomorrow,” Sebastian interrupted him. “Right now, you have to go to sleep.”

“I know that,” Ciel snapped. “Stop finishing my sentences.”

 

He was reluctant to retire as he was going upstairs. As soon as he touched the bed, though, sleepiness engulfed him, slowing his senses to the point where he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Sebastian was fussing over him, tucking him in and adjusting his blanket, and Ciel grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him closer.

“Sebastian,” he murmured.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Those pieces of paper you’ve cut. I bet you’ve made at least one mistake in measurements.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t _think_ that. I know. Check them yourself, right now. It’s an order.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian smiled in a way Ciel couldn’t understand, crossing the distance between them and leaning even closer. Ciel thought he saw a red flash in his eyes but he was too drowsy to think about it further. His hold weakened and a second later, he succumbed to sleep.

 

 

***

 

 

Sebastian was acting strange in the morning. He served Ciel breakfast and tea, was as attentive as always, but at the same time, he looked so sour that Ciel was at a loss.

Had something happened?

On the other hand, why would he care? He had no idea what Sebastian was up to at nights. As long as it wasn’t related to him directly, he was free to do what he wanted.

“Where are those bits of newspapers?” Ciel asked. “We have to put them into heated water and then put the pot someplace warm for a day.”

“I’ve already done that,” Sebastian said calmly, arranging the white roses on the table. “You’ve ordered me to take care of them last night.”

“I did?” Ciel frowned. “I don’t remember.”

Sebastian’s smile was tranquil when he turned to look at him.

“You were sleepy,” he uttered. “Your order was ambiguous but I assumed this was what you meant.”

“Well, next time, ask to make sure,” Ciel grumbled. Sebastian had ruined his chance to measure his work and find a mistake. Then again, maybe it was for the better — he could focus on the game itself now.

After picking up the supplies, they took their place near the fireplace again, both staring at the now-filled board.

“You paint your part, I’ll paint mine,” Ciel decided. “I’ll also paint the start of the game. You deal with the end.”

A cunning shadow flashed across Sebastian’s face.

“I will,” he agreed, and the fact that he was already plotting some vile scheme was so obvious that Ciel barely refrained from rolling his eye.

Let Sebastian do his worst. As if Ciel cared what kind of ending he made up.

 

They spent hours drawing, remaining silent when they were satisfied with each other’s results and sneering openly when something was wrong. Ciel shuddered as Sebastian added colours to his painting of the flames, setting the drawn woman on fire and giving her face a terrified look. Even though he tried to follow Ciel’s style of drawing, his pictures were still infinitely better, and while annoying, it was to be expected.  

“How will you call this game?” Sebastian wondered, adding darker shades to another picture.

“I don’t know,” Ciel picked up a green pencil, trying to make his forest look as vivid as Sebastian’s flames were. “I won’t be submitting it to Funtom factories, so it doesn’t require a name.”

“You are not going to name it?” Heavy dissatisfaction in Sebastian’s voice made Ciel look up in confusion. Sebastian’s eyes seemed redder than usual, like this topic offended him on a personal level.

“Why do you care whether I name it or not?” Ciel asked incredulously.

“I did notice that you have an unfortunate lack of imagination when it comes to giving names, Master,” Sebastian’s lips twisted in displeasure and Ciel suddenly had an idea.

“Are you dissatisfied with your name?”

Sebastian didn’t reply and Ciel chortled with amusement. Now _this_ had never even occurred to him. Was Sebastian truly resentful of his name? He had appeared to accept it, especially when Ciel allowed him to pick the last name of his choice.

“This wasn’t a rhetorical question,” Ciel said sharply. “Answer me.”

“I don’t mind the name itself. However, I admit I’m confused by your reasoning. Why did you name me after a dog?”

The disgust underlying the last word was so palpable that Ciel almost snickered. However, his voice sounded cold when he said, “That dog hated me. He couldn’t stand even the sight of me and yet he was a perfect guard dog, never forgetting about his responsibilities. I expected the same of you.”

Annoyance left Sebastian’s face, melting into surprise.

“You named me after someone who hated you?” he asked slowly. Ciel met his gaze, careful to keep his expression even, thinking, ‘ _Eventually, the dog loved me. He loved me above everyone else and he was my source of comfort every time I needed it._ ’

Ciel had naively followed the association of comfort and safety when naming his demon, oblivious to how the first part of his story with the real Sebastian would reflect his relationship with the fake one.

Sebastian didn’t need to know the second part. It was irrelevant.

“That makes sense, doesn’t it?” he said aloud. “You are with me only because we are bound by the contract. You are obligated to protect me, just like the dog of the Phantomhive family was. And yet you still attempted to deceive me to terminate the contract early, so I’d say that in regard to fulfilling one’s duties, my real dog was superior.”

Sebastian’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed, as if he disliked being reminded of his earlier behaviour.

“Besides,” Ciel added, “I asked what your actual name was. You told me to choose one myself.”

“Demons do not share their true names with humans,” Sebastian said condescendingly. The derisive curling of his mouth made Ciel stiffen, suddenly feeling disregarded and mocked. “The true name of a demon holds immense power that humans could use to their advantage were they to know it. We do not reveal even the names of the enemies if they’re of our kind. Not to the outsiders.”   

“Really?” Forgetting about his irritation, Ciel leaned forward. “What would I be able to do if I knew your name?”

“The contract would be more powerful from your side. You would be able to actively oppose me and enforce your will even in circumstances where I would want to resist you. Names are considered intimate among my kind. We do not choose them and we are not given them — they are there from the moment we are born.”    

There were many things Ciel wanted to ask. He’d give a lot to know whether Sebastian’s real name was mentioned in some of the ancient occult books, but it required more engagement than he was willing to demonstrate.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Sebastian wouldn’t share his name with him and Ciel wasn’t all that interested in knowing the sordid details of his undoubtedly perverse life.

Sebastian was his pawn. Nothing more.

“Well, I’m not naming the game,” Ciel announced. “If you have such a penchant for naming things, you can do that yourself.”

“I’ll consider some options,” Sebastian agreed easily.

Without speaking another word, they went back to drawing.

 

 

***

 

 

For four more days, there were no news from Lau, and Ciel spent them with Sebastian by his side, finishing their game. They created game pieces out of a chess set, covering them in a sticky mass they obtained after mixing the bits of newspapers with chalk and glue. As Ciel was working on the chess pieces, transforming them into gargoyles, Sebastian focused on constructing a silver-covered whirligig with numbers, which had to function as dices. They also finished painting the board, and when everything was done, they put all elements of the game together, observing their results.

“There’s still some of that glue left,” Ciel remarked. “I’ll make some London buildings out of it for decoration.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped closer to the board, studying the pictures Sebastian had painted as the ending.

At first he’d thought these were just some men and women sitting in a carriage, but the closer he looked, the more he realized that something’s wrong.

“Why are their faces so yellow?” he asked. The people were preceded by a wide reddish banner with strange letters on it. ‘Boaz’? What did it mean? The picture of people was followed by the ‘ _Happy End_ ’ wording, but knowing Sebastian, there had to be a catch.

Sebastian didn’t reply immediately. When Ciel glanced at him for clarification, he saw a familiar all-knowing gaze coupled with a mysterious smile.

Well. Sebastian clearly didn’t intend to tell him anything.

Ciel glanced at the picture again, trying to absorb everything he saw on it. The banner, looking like a warning. Strange people. ‘ _Happy End_ ’.

“They’re dead,” he concluded. “And that otherworldly half-thing you’ve drawn is going to drag their carriage straight into hell. So anyone who finishes the game is still going to die.”

“I thought you would appreciate such ending,” Sebastian uttered, looking pleased. “It’s fitting, isn’t it, my lord?”

“It is,” Ciel agreed. “But I don’t understand what ‘Boaz’ means. Is it from the Bible?”

“Not exactly,” Sebastian’s lips twitched. “It has several meanings. You may view it as something akin to ‘poisoned victory’.”

Ciel let out a thoughtful noise, still looking at the picture. He’d have to research the word later to understand what exactly Sebastian meant. Overall, he was satisfied with the game — it looked sufficiently scary and interesting, and his fingers burned with desire to touch the smooth surface and start the first match.

That was exactly when Lau knocked on the door.

 

 

***

 

 

Three hours later, Ciel found himself in a small, half-ruined room of the storage next to one of the biggest docks, pressed against Sebastian’s chest securely. According to Lau, this was where the major drug-dealing group had to discharge their secret cargo today, accompanied by the port workers who gave them clearance.

As Ciel had thought from the start, this was boring. Lau had done all the work and gave him information, and now all he had to do was wait. As soon as drug-dealers and port workers came in, Sebastian would enter the game. And then everything would be over.

“Young Master?” Sebastian murmured into his hair. “Is there anything in particular you would like me to do once they come?”

Ciel considered it carefully, trying to evaluate the impact of his decision from all sides.

On the one hand, he wasn’t thrilled at having to participate in a gruesome murder of some thugs. He despised drugs but they didn’t offend him as much as the majority of other crimes did.

On the other hand, he couldn’t realistically solve the problem of drugs transportation in all docks of London at once manually. The best option was to set an example for everyone, and to do that, the punishment had to be spectacular.

“Kill them in a way that will be remembered,” Ciel decided finally. “Leave one of the port workers alive, though. Understood?”

“I wouldn’t deserve to call myself a servant of the Phantomhive family if I couldn’t do that,” Sebastian assured him. Ciel couldn’t see his face from this angle but he knew Sebastian was smiling that deceptively friendly, dangerous smile of his.

Silence stretched, with nothing but occasional raindrops breaking it. Through the cracks in the doorway, only small shards of light went through, and eventually, it started lulling Ciel to sleep. Sebastian kept holding him so he would stay warm and Ciel pressed closer to him, letting his eyelids droop.

He was startled out of sleep by Sebastian’s whisper right against his ear, “My lord, they are here.”

Ciel clenched his cane and hastened to look through one of the cracks.

The room had indeed filled with people. Some were talking quietly, others were rolling several boxes inside, pushing them towards the back. 

They looked ordinary. Pity that their cargo wasn’t.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ciel grumbled. “Kill them.”  

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian whispered. He clutched Ciel tighter in his arms for a moment, and then, before Ciel could even understand what’s happening, he was standing on his own feet, near the drug dealers. Sebastian was nowhere to be found but Ciel didn’t let it disturb him — by now, he was familiar with at least a dozen of Sebastian’s game scenarios.

“Who is that?” one of the men exclaimed, pointing at him.

“Some thief, probably,” another man growled, narrowing his eyes at Ciel. “Get lost, kid.”

Ciel snorted derisively, crossing his arms together.

“Your eyesight is failing you,” he stated coldly. “You can’t even recognise who you are talking to?”

“He’s dressed too well to be a thief,” someone hissed. “Get rid of him, now!”

There was a loud yelp and the central door suddenly closed. Ciel smiled with the corner of his lips, leaning against his cane.

“What’s happening?” the same man who’d addressed him asked, backing away.

“That would be my butler,” Ciel replied helpfully, and as soon as he finished saying it, the screams started.

He didn’t get any particular pleasure from watching the men who had just been breathing being torn apart, but looking away would mean weakness that Ciel couldn’t afford. For this reason, he observed Sebastian’s performance coolly, wrinkling his nose as the smell of blood, wetness, and urine reached him. Sebastian was clearly having fun, jumping from one man to another, leaving mutilated bodies behind, moving so swiftly that no matter how hard Ciel tried, he couldn’t track his motions adequately.   

At first, he couldn’t tell how Sebastian had chosen to design this scene. Only when a handful of men were left, Ciel noticed that each body was missing a different limb. Some lacked legs, others lacked hands, and the mouths of all of them seemed split from ear to ear.

It looked rather impressive, Ciel had to admit it. Normally, he disapproved of blood shows, but he needed something that would be remembered and this would do nicely.

Soon, all the screams died out. Only terrified whimpering from one of the corners remained, from the port worker that Ciel had ordered to keep alive.

Sebastian glanced at him, looking sated and otherworldly. His eyes were still burning an unnatural red and Ciel frowned, silently ordering him to control himself. Sebastian, it seemed, understood his command because he bowed, and when he looked up again, his eyes were back to normal.

“Arrange everything,” Ciel said curtly. As Sebastian busied himself with it, he walked towards the port worker, stopping one step from him.

“What is your name?” he asked. The man raised his half-crazed eyes, shaking so badly that his teeth were chattering.

“J-James,” he mumbled.

“Did you see what happened here?”

James stared helplessly, obviously trying to guess what kind of answer Ciel was expecting.

“The truth,” Ciel demanded harshly and James flinched back so hard that he hit his head against the wall.

Honestly.

“I— I— I saw,” he whimpered. “That unholy thing… it… it killed everyone. Please…”

“Unholy thing indeed,” Ciel agreed, sensing Sebastian’s annoyance with his back and barely keeping himself from smiling. “Do you know who I am?”

James tried to answer, but even though his lips moved, no sound escaped.

“Probably not,” Ciel concluded. “I’m Earl Phantomhive, the Watchdog of Her Majesty. You will leave with your life today but only for one reason. I want you to warn everyone about what will happen to those who transport the drugs and those who allow such ships to discharge. Tell them that if I hear of even one such activity, they will meet the same fate. I won’t tolerate drug dealing within the districts entrusted to me by Her Majesty. Those who do not heed my warning will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” James whispered, staring at him as if Ciel was the devil himself. “I will tell them.”

“Good. Sebastian?”

“All done, my lord,” Sebastian bowed his head and Ciel looked over the picture they were going to leave for Randall and other port workers to find. The bodies were now piled up one over the other, and the severed limbs formed the second pile, placed in the opposite corner.

Cheap but effective enough to frighten their audience. Ciel nodded in approval and watched how Sebastian’s fangs glistened as he grinned at him.

“Do you think that would be sufficient to stop the drug trafficking, Master?” Sebastian asked as they left the port. Ciel shrugged.

“It will work for a while,” he said. “There will always be some desperate individuals who will still try to transport the drugs to London, regardless of their fear. After several months, the story of what happened today will look like a scary tale to those who weren’t personally involved and they will still try to make easy money. So, it will be efficient to a degree. However, that’s all I need and all I can realistically do.”

Sebastian nodded but his face remained inscrutable, so it was difficult to understand whether he agreed with him or not. Whatever he was thinking, though, he wasn’t going to share it, and Ciel wasn’t going to push.

All he wanted to do at this moment was to get home and test their new game — and to sleep without nightmares.

 

 

***

 

 

Contrary to Ciel’s hopes, a nightmare did come. He hadn’t found Sebastian’s display at the port overly shocking but it seemed that his mind disagreed.

He hated blood.

The nightmare was familiar, the same type he’d had for months after his release, but as always, it felt terrifyingly real. The light from the candles was tearing mercilessly into his eyes, almost blinding him, and the only thing he could do was listen to the voices.

He knew what each intonation meant. He recognised each rise and fall, each laugh and the person it belonged to. It was vital to know these things. It helped him to understand when they were going to come and when he was going to be chosen — and what for.

He never knew which option was worse, to be ‘prepared’, as they called it, or to be finally sacrificed.

This inability to decide fuelled madness in him. Madness that was quickly devoured by hatred so strong, he felt he could burst with it.

Finally, he heard the intonations he’d been dreading, the sounds that combined themselves into the sound of his name, and he screamed like he always did — screamed for help that wouldn’t be coming.

Someone squeezed his hand suddenly. The sensation was new and unexpected, and it tore Ciel from his nightmare in a matter of seconds. However, the reality was equally oppressive because he didn’t recognise the touch. It didn’t belong to Sebastian, which made whomever touched him an enemy.

“Get away from me!” Ciel yelled, yanking his hand away viciously. He was still disoriented but he knew someone was near, someone who wasn’t Sebastian, someone who wasn’t welcome. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry! Young Master, it’s me, Bard. Do you know who I am?”

“Bard?” Ciel gasped. “Where’s Sebastian?”

“You sent him to Lord Randall. Do you remember? To deliver some news.”      

…Right. He had deliberately chosen the night for his message to rattle Randall even further.

Ciel breathed carefully, in and out. Bard had brought Sebastian’s candelabra with him and the light from it was enough for him to see the clock.

Sebastian had left just twenty minutes ago. He’d managed to have a nightmare like that in about fifteen minutes of sleep?

The seed of fury at himself burned in Ciel’s chest, quickly turning into a kernel of full-blown resentment. He clenched his fists, digging his fingers into his skin sharply, and only then did he remember about Bard.

“Why did you come into my room?” Ciel demanded to know. Bard looked sheepish at the accusation in his voice. He made a step back and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I heard your screaming,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Master. As Sebastian was out of the house, I wasn’t sure what to do. If you want me to leave—”

Ciel considered this suggestion for a moment. Then he stared at Bard, who looked out of place but painfully sincere, and discarded it.

“No,” he said. “Stay.”

Bard nodded, adjusted the candelabra, then shifted uncomfortably. He was obviously at a loss as to what to do now that Ciel had ordered him to stay, but to his credit, he gathered himself rather quickly.

“Want to talk about your dreams?” he asked.

“No,” Ciel replied curtly. Bard rubbed the back of his neck again, looking even more uncomfortable, and then, just as suddenly, he smiled.

“I can tell you about mine,” he offered. “I’ve been battling them for years, so I know a few tricks. Maybe they could help you.”

Ciel thought about denying that he needed help, but just like the last time, he chose against it.

Talking didn’t mean admitting to being weak, did it? And talking about such things with a demon who did not even understand the concept of nightmares was unthinkable.

“Fine,” Ciel uttered, and blinked in astonishment when Bard sat right on the edge of his bed. For a moment, he was torn between getting offended and letting it go, and reluctantly, he picked the latter.

Bard was a simple man. He obviously had little idea of what boundaries between masters and their servants were, and scolding him would only reduce his desire to be useful.

“You know I was at the battlefield,” Bard said. “I saw death every day. I went to the military to help the civilians. My family was killed in one of the military raids, so I hoped I’d be able to protect someone else the way I didn’t protect them. But eventually, I only lost more people I loved.”

An uneasy feeling washed over Ciel, making him look away briefly. He was unsure of what expression to take, what to feel in response to Bard’s confessions.

He didn’t remember the last time someone talked about his feelings so openly. Admitting to feeling guilt, to loving someone? How could Bard just say it so effortlessly, as if it wasn’t difficult?

Bard paused, probably giving him time to say something, and when Ciel didn’t, he went on.

“They come to my dreams often. Sometimes these are good dreams. Sometimes they are… yeah,” Bard sighed heavily, reached for his cigar. Then remembered where he was and jerked his hand back.

“You said you know some ‘tricks’ to help with the nightmares,” Ciel reminded him.  

“Yeah,” Bard repeated, livelier this time. “Of course, what works for me might not work for you, but dreams are dreams, right? So back when I was with the military, I had a friend, Jess. We used to share a tent with some other soldiers. Every time I started tossing and turning, he crawled to me and squeezed my hand. Lightly at first, then increasing the pressure, up until I woke up. It didn’t help at first, mind you. I nearly took his head off during those first times. But Jess was the only person who had ever tried to help me and he always sat with me afterwards, just talking and distracting me. With time, I started associating the hand squeeze with safety because I knew what would follow. Maybe you could find the same anchor, eh? You could ask Sebastian to do something like that whenever you’re having a nightmare.”

 _‘Sebastian_ is _my anchor_ , _’_ Ciel thought sourly, his careful hope crashing back into miserable, lonely pieces.

Sebastian was the only being that stayed by his side during his nightmares. His so-called comfort was the coldest and most impersonal thing Ciel had ever seen, and yet his mind still latched onto it, craving his presence and his familiar smell, absurdly associating them with safety.

Sebastian had tried to mimic Bard to soothe him last time, failing to understand that any touch of his and even his mere presence would have the same effect. Obviously, Ciel could never say it, but the association was there and he couldn’t remove it no matter how hard he tried.

He doubted he could create a new, Sebastian-unrelated association. Not after all this time.  

“Want me to tell you some funny stories?” Bard asked, and Ciel snorted incredulously. He doubted he would find Bard’s idea of humour funny but he didn’t want to go back to sleep yet.

It looked like Bard was learning to interpret his answers based on his silence because he nodded as if Ciel had said something and grinned.

“Let’s start with my first raid,” he declared.

Like Ciel had anticipated, he didn’t find the first story funny at all. The second one was better. The third made him smile reluctantly, but after the fourth one, he laughed, quietly but heartfeltedly. 

His laughter was cut short by the sound of the door slamming open. Jerking from the abruptness of it, Ciel tried to look only for his view to be blocked by Bard, who jumped from the bed and shielded him protectively.

“Oh, it’s you, Sebastian,” Bard uttered, the relief palpable in his voice. He moved away and Ciel caught a glimpse of Sebastian… and frowned.

Sebastian didn’t look human. He was still in a human shape, clearly, and since Bard didn’t seem to react, it probably wasn’t anything particularly revealing, but by now, Ciel knew him enough to notice the tiniest signs.

The stillness with which Sebastian was standing on the threshold was unnatural. He didn’t appear to be breathing, a human characteristic that he’d always imitated successfully, and under this stillness, the pieces of darkness were brewing, entwining and coiling together, preparing to attack.

“Bard,” Sebastian said, and his voice, usually deceptively soft, was laced with explicit menace. It promised cruelty at the slightest sign of disobedience. “Leave. Now.”

Bard must have caught up on this promise because he backed away to Ciel in what appeared to be an instinctive reaction, and when Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, he swallowed audibly.

“S-sure,” he murmured. “Have a good night, Master. Sebastian.”

Ciel didn’t react, watching Sebastian with a frown. When Bard left, some stillness bled out of him, but then he moved towards the bed and Ciel could distinctly hear the sound of the heels clicking.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, perplexed.

“Not at all, my lord,” Sebastian smiled, but his smile was biting and icy, and Ciel shivered involuntarily.

Sebastian looked at him as if he despised him, as if he would like nothing more than to break his neck.

When he approached, Ciel stared, wondering if he was about to do just that. His stupid body refused to recognise Sebastian as a threat, though, and while his heart clenched painfully, every other part of him relaxed, succumbing to the illusion of safety.

Sebastian smoothed the bed sheet where Bard had been sitting and straightened again, still smiling. 

Ciel wished he didn’t. This? This wasn’t a smile. This was a snarl of a predator that hated him and that was considering to tear him apart, just like he did to the men at the port.

“Another nightmare, Young Master?” Sebastian asked, his every word emanating fake sweetness. “I’ll bring you some hot milk. You shouldn’t be awake at this hour.” 

Ciel couldn’t force himself to reply. He just stared as Sebastian left the room, wide-eyed and startled and afraid.

What was that?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - Sebastian's POV covering all major events that happened so far as well as the events of E1 of S1. We've finally reached canon! :D


	10. Sebastian. Transitioning. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!) As always, thank you all for your tremendous support, it's incredibly motivating! I was so excited about it and about Sebastian's POV that I've managed to complete the next chapter early. However, it ended up being around 20K, so I had to break it into two parts :) 
> 
> Warning for some creepiness here! Sebastian is... well. Sebastian.

Ciel Phantomhive was the most confounding blend of contradictions that Sebastian had encountered in his devilishly long existence.

From the very first second he felt that unique, twisted soul, he was enthralled. The blinding light it emanated wasn’t dulled by the bitter dark stains spreading across its surface, not in the slightest. How something so pure and innocent could have such dark edges, Sebastian didn’t know, and he didn’t particularly care.

The pureness formed the essence of this soul, making it into white canvas waiting to be filled with intricate, exquisite patterns. The shadowy stains that already darkened some of its bits spoke of pride, mercilessness, coldness, and rage, rage so profound that Sebastian couldn’t believe it belonged to such a young soul. The darkest spot marked hatred and hostility, and the flavour of this peculiar combination was entirely maddening, making him salivate.     

He thirsted for this soul. This soul was worthy of forming a contract, and by the time he was finished with it, it would be even more delicious — bitterer, sweeter, and spicier. The best meal he’d had so far.  

The wish of his new Master was rather bland but Sebastian was willing to entertain it because for someone as young, seeking revenge was almost refreshing. He destroyed the vermin that must have fuelled the boy’s rage right in front of him, showcasing his abilities and proving his worth, and when he put his mark on the boy’s eye, he felt satisfaction well up in his chest.   

This soul was his now. Now, it wouldn’t be able to escape, and if it tried, he would follow.

“I have three additional requests,” the boy declared, glaring at him defiantly, as if challenging him to object. Sebastian let his lips twist in an ironic smile. Didn’t this strange creature know that now that the contract had been formed, all new conditions were void?

However, he was feeling generous today, after finding such a compelling meal, so he chose to humour the boy.

“Whatever you wish for, my lord,” he murmured, grimacing internally at how insincere his words sounded. His Master’s eyes narrowed suddenly and Sebastian almost frowned.

Could it be that… No. The boy couldn’t have sensed the disingenuousness of his obedience. No human, especially a child, was capable of distinguishing between the lies and the truths when speaking to a demon, regardless of how unique their soul was.

“I want you to always protect me,” his Master said solemnly, throwing a quick glance at the piles of crumpled corpses covering the floor. “Protect me and never betray me,” he added quickly. “Not until I fulfil my revenge. My orders are absolute and you must obey me unconditionally. Also, I forbid you to ever lie to me. Understood?”

Unconditional obedience was something the boy had already demanded, back when they were forming a contract. Technically, Sebastian mused, it meant that all other orders would have to be followed immediately as well, so the boy’s additional requirements weren’t necessary. Still, as expected, he hadn’t been very clear when expressing his wishes, so Sebastian could easily find a way around each of the demands apart from the revenge itself if needed.

But he would do anything to look like a perfect butler in the boy’s eyes. He would earn his soul — as long as it remained worthy of being cultivated.

It would make this game much more interesting.

 

 

***

 

When the plate with the lunch he had worked so hard on was thrown into his face, for a moment, Sebastian was too stunned to react. He stared at his Master, knowing that his face must look blank from the shock, and tried to process this new indignity. 

The boy was refreshingly demanding and surprisingly vicious in his requests for perfection. At first, he had been reprimanding Sebastian for his failures; then, he began to throw the inadequate dishes on the floor, making Sebastian clean up. Throwing them into his face, though? That was new and Sebastian couldn’t say it was pleasant.   

“You skilfully imitated the appearance but it’s just colouring,” his Young Master stated coldly. “The flavour is insipid.”

Feeling how the disgusting blend of food started to drip from his face, Sebastian had to take a second to corral a sudden desire to snap the boy’s neck. Granted, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d killed one of his Masters, but not in such circumstances. Furthermore, less than a week had passed since they formed their contract. He never cared about the position he held among other demons, yet breaking the contract so soon? Unacceptable.

“I apologise,” Sebastian uttered, lowering his eyes in submission even though he knew the boy couldn’t see him. “I’ll bring a new one immediately.”

He walked to the door but the boy’s voice stopped him, and this time, it sounded even colder.

“I made a contract with you. If you’re going to be a butler, perform your duties properly.”

Anger was a feeling Sebastian had almost forgotten. His existence had been mundane and passionless for so long that even the slightest stirring of something other than hunger was a revelation.

He might be an imperfect demon among his own kind but among humans? Humans were so easy to impress. It never required any effort, and yet during the last four days, the disagreeable child he was serving had showered him with more insults than he had received in his whole life. Worse than the insults and constant humiliating tasks was genuine displeasure Sebastian could sense within him.

His Young Master wasn’t simply being difficult, he was truly dissatisfied with his services. Apart from being unimpressed, he viewed Sebastian as something inferior, and the thought of it was enough to send weak, unexpectedly warm sparks of anger through him.

Interesting.

Sebastian went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and resumed cooking.

He would get this right. The irritating child was going to appreciate every meal Sebastian prepared and he would ask for extra servings. Sebastian would achieve this regardless of the cost, even if he had to waste another ton of human ingredients.

 

***

 

 

“Wrong,” Sebastian concluded, frowning at the scroll of paper his Master had passed to him. “Only three out of eight calculations are correct. You are abysmally inattentive and your handwriting leaves a lot to be desired. Is that number one or number seven?”

“One,” the boy grumbled sourly.

“You’ll have to redo five calculations and rewrite all that on a clean sheet. Now, hands open.”

The boy stared at him in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘hands open’?” he asked, and Sebastian showed him the cane, smiling. His Master’s eye widened.

“You are going to hit me?” he exclaimed incredulously. “But my parents never—” He fell silent without finishing his phrase, still staring at the cane in disbelief.

“I told you I’m a strict teacher,” Sebastian remarked. “In your circumstances, Young Master, you have to learn twice as fast as you normally would. Imposing punishment for every mistake is an effective way to ensure that your attention does not waver.”

The boy bit his lip nervously. Uncertainty and fear that so palpably seeped into his veins were intoxicating and Sebastian inhaled deeply, letting the bitter flavour spread through his lungs.

When his Master finally held out his hands, Sebastian was unable to stop a hungry grin from emerging. He raised the cane and struck, deliberately catching the slim fingers for the impact to be more profound. Gasping, the boy recoiled from him, pressing his injured hand to his chest and staring at him with such a betrayed look that the pleasure from it threatened to become overwhelming. Sebastian raised his eyebrow, waiting, watching how his Master’s lower lip began to tremble.

Would he cry? The strike had been undoubtedly painful, especially for a fragile child like this. The unexpectedness of it also had to play its role, stirring emotions that the boy didn’t want to display.

What would he do if Sebastian asked him to hold his hands open again?

He could always check.

“One more strike,” Sebastian drawled, drinking in the flare of shock and fury in the boy’s eye.

‘ _Cry_ ,’ he urged him silently as a thin thread of darkness separated from him, striving to reach the boy and absorb every painful emotion he was experiencing. 

How would his tears taste?

“Fine,” his Master said suddenly, and Sebastian blinked, taken aback.

He hadn’t expected him to agree, certainly not after the reaction he’d gotten. But the boy was holding his hands open again, glaring, so Sebastian raised the cane and inflicted another strike, this time missing the fingers.

The boy said nothing. He pulled out a clean sheet of paper and began to write again, very neatly, even though his hands were shaking.

Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off him for the rest of the lesson, surprised and reluctantly impressed.

The boy was stubborn. He was obviously holding himself to the same high standards he required from Sebastian, which was more than could be said about all his previous Masters.

Yes, this soul was indeed worthy of his attention.

 

 

***

 

 

“Sebastian? Hands open.”

Another almost forgotten, vaguely familiar sensation shooting up in his chest. Astonishment. Genuine and absolutely unexpected, stronger than any feeling of surprise he’d experienced so far.

Sebastian stepped to the table, holding out his hands obediently, still doubtful that the boy would do this, and the next moment, scorching hot liquid covered his fingers, boiling his skin and sending weak moans of pain through his body.

“This isn’t tea,” his Master said darkly, scowling at him. “This is coloured water. Start over.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian bowed slightly, retreating to the kitchen. The darkness in him hissed angrily — he could see a shadowy glimpse of his wings that tried to bleed through his human form, demanding retribution. Being punished by a child, in such a humiliating way… Sebastian would prefer getting stabbed or shot to _this_.

Despite his outrage, though, he only chuckled and waved the darkness away. How unpredictable and deliciously malicious his Master could be...  

Sebastian closed his eyes, imagining how a soul of such a unique being would taste.

For some reason, he felt positively sure that the second cup of tea was going to be thrown at him again even if he did manage to prepare something to his Master’s liking.

Two strikes with the cane, two instances of scorching.

His Master was vindictive, no doubts about that.

 

 

***

 

“Stay with me,” the child blurted, wide-eyed and scared, shaking from the aftermath of his dreams, and Sebastian struggled to stop his lips from curling downwards.

Nightmares. How boring. The nights were supposed to be the time when he could rest from the unending demands and stop pretending to be a human, but his little Master seemed set on possessing even this part of his schedule.

He murmured the words of agreement, took the candelabra, and approached the window. The boy sent him a sad glance and Sebastian sensed how something flickered in his soul, a strong and undecipherable longing for something. It was so potent that Sebastian tilted his head curiously, waiting for an order of some kind, but all the boy did was bury himself under the blanket and close his eyes.

Humans were immensely fascinating but understanding them had never been a problem. Until now.

What was the boy thinking? A failure to understand his own Master equalled a failure to perform his duties adequately, and this other example of his imperfection annoyed Sebastian more than he was willing to admit.

Better to put the entire issue to rest swiftly. If he came up with a solution to stop his Master’s nightmares from occurring, he could have his nights back, without having to play a concerned servant who had to check whether everything was fine every time the boy awoke.

All he had to do was learn what having nightmares meant.

 

The next morning, Sebastian stayed by his Master’s side unwaveringly, leaving only to prepare, serve, and remake the meals. According to the facts he’d gathered, nightmares were caused by irrational fears and insecurity, so if he remained close to his Master during the day, offering silent protection, his nights would be undisturbed.  

There was only one flaw in this plan, and it was the child himself.

“Stop following me around like a dog,” he growled, and Sebastian frowned, not sure why his efforts were being disregarded once again.

“I only wish for my Master to feel safe,” he said as gently as he could, and the child gasped in outrage.

“I don’t need you to stalk me for that! If the intruders come, you will deal with them as always. Other than that, only come when I call for you. I don’t want to have to see you more than that — and stop standing so close! You’re suffocating me!”

Frustration was another new feeling that was quickly becoming familiar to him. Sebastian bowed, curious at the small flares of indignation that kept heating his blood, and left to start preparing the lunch.

Maybe the boy enjoyed having nightmares and did not wish to recover from them. It was preferable to the idea that Sebastian had misunderstood something again.

This time, in a hundredth attempt to prepare an edible meal for his Master, Sebastian brought a book with recipes to the kitchen. He’d found it in the vast library of the manor and while the majority of the recipes looked peculiar at best, there was one that attracted his attention. It was underlined with red ink, accompanied by the words “Ciel’s favourite”.

If he managed to cook at least one good meal, he would be able to figure out the boy’s preferences and adjust to them accordingly. This hateful process would certainly become more tolerable after that.

Sebastian ignored his own ideas and beliefs entirely this time, following the underlined recipe word by word. Half of the ingredients seemed immiscible to him but he still added them, half-expecting everything to blow up in his face.

Strangely, no such thing happened. When Sebastian served the meal to his Master, he was rewarded with a suspicious glance. The boy tasted his lunch, chewed, swallowed, and then stared at Sebastian, the disbelief written plainly on his face.

“This is actually eatable!” he exclaimed, and a foreign, tickling warmth bloomed in Sebastian’s chest.

Pleasure.

He’d never had to work hard to achieve success before. Who would have thought that after all those struggles, the victory would taste so sweet?

“I’m pleased that it satisfies you, Master,” Sebastian said, for the first time feeling nothing but sincerity.

Cooking had been the most difficult part of his tasks, and now that he had a specific recipe as a basis, it was bound to get far more engaging.

His Master _would_ ask for the extra serving. Very soon.

 

 

***

 

The child began to smile at him. At first, Sebastian believed it to be a reaction to their mutual progress — they both had improved significantly in execution of their duties, but the more time passed, the more grating those smiles became.

His Master was losing the edge that kept Sebastian fascinated. The kaleidoscope of new, unexplored feelings that he found refreshing was rapidly fading, replaced by more than familiar sensations of boredom and revulsion.

   He had been mistaken in his evaluation of the boy’s soul. He might have appeared merciless and intriguing at first, and he had been delightfully suspicious and demanding of him for a while, but now, apparently, he began to get used to his company, and this softened him to an intolerable extent.

The sharpness was gone from his voice when he was issuing orders. He began to reach out for Sebastian like a small, affection-starved puppy, and the more he sought out his presence, the harder Sebastian tried to avoid him.

It was sickening to see what his almost perfect soul had turned into. He should have thought twice before forming a contract: the minds of children were undergoing constant changes, so what he bargained for one day could transform drastically tomorrow.

One thing was clear — this child wasn’t worthy of all the efforts Sebastian had invested into serving him. A few more months and he would forget about his revenge, which would give Sebastian a perfect opportunity to devour him. This soul would be a mere quick snack instead of a flavourful meal he had been looking forward to, but it was just as well. He could always search for a new, worthier Master.

He got his excuse sooner than he’d expected. The letter from the Queen herself had arrived, inviting the boy for a ceremony, and standing at the back of the room, watching him being officially recognised as an Earl, Sebastian felt peaceful. Their contract was coming to an end, he could already sense it. Today or tomorrow, it was going to happen — his Master was going to slip up.

The boy chose this exact moment to turn and seek Sebastian out with his eye, as if to make sure that he was watching, and a pleasant anticipation began to buzz in Sebastian’s veins softly.

Today, then. 

He smiled at the boy, gently and affectionately, and received a beaming look in response.

What a weak-willed, malleable little human.

 

“The status, the fortune, the beautiful fiancée — they are all yours now,” Sebastian was saying, keeping his eyes downcast to hide a hungry glow that he knew was burning in them. “So how about it? Would you throw away such foolishness as revenge and live on in happiness like this?”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” the boy agreed, and it was all Sebastian needed. Parting his lips in a snarl, he reached for his Master, uncaring that his body started losing its human appearance, emanating the first curls of darkness.

His claws almost pierced the boy’s nape, his body thrumming in ravenous anticipation, when a harsh word broke through his haze.

“But!”

The boy turned to face him at this very second and Sebastian had barely managed to retract his hand.

“I didn’t return to attain happiness,” he said, his voice brimming with a quiet, fierce determination. “I came back to fight.”

What?

Sebastian stared at him, dumbstruck, as more and more unfamiliar feelings flooded him, stronger than anything he’d experienced in centuries.

“There is no other way to go but forward,” the boy added darkly. “I swear on this damned name of mine that I will attain my revenge!” 

Sebastian knew he must have made some noise, but for the hell of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. Something shifted in his chest, twisting the very core of him, unchaining it and centring it on the boy who stood in front of him, the boy whose soul was lit with a grim, blinding glow of darkness.

Beautiful. Unrelenting. Noble.

He was mistaken. Whatever weakness the boy had shown, it was only an echo of who he truly was — an echo that could be squashed easily.

This was indeed the soul he’d entered the contract with. This boy was indeed his _Master_.

For the first time in his existence, Sebastian dropped to his knee willingly, not because he had to dress or bathe the boy, but because he was acknowledging the respect he induced. He had never knelt before any of his previous Masters, not unless ordered to, but here, now, he felt almost powerless in the face of these new, astonishing feelings.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, not having to fake the reverence in his voice. The boy held out his hand and Sebastian accepted it readily, clenching it in his. “I will definitely deliver you the crown of victory,” he promised before brushing his lips against the small, gloved hand, breathing in the scent of the heated skin that no fabric could hide.

Yes, he would obtain that crown for his Master. He would treat his wish with utmost seriousness and he would be the most perfect butler any human could dream of.

He _would_ cultivate this soul, and when the time came, he would absorb it piece by the twitching piece, revelling in the despair and horror that would inevitably follow the boy as he realised that everything was over.

It would be well worth the wait indeed.

 

 

***

 

 

The boy was far more perceptive than Sebastian had believed. It was difficult to say how he’d managed to figure everything out during their trip home, but he had — and he demanded answers.

Initially, Sebastian thought it would be amusing to watch how his Master reacted to the truth. For this reason, he easily confessed his intention to trick and devour him today, wondering if the delectable look of betrayal he’d seen on the boy’s face when he first hit him during their lessons would return.

It did, but the reaction that came afterwards was the last thing Sebastian had expected.

In retrospect, he should have been vaguer in his response.

He was so busy with dinner preparations that he’d missed how the boy left the house. When the seal on his hand suddenly burned, Sebastian felt his eyes widen in disbelief. Then he dashed to where the boy was, trying to understand how he could have possibly missed the intruders but failing.

He would have sensed someone approaching. No, whatever danger his Master was in, it had to be accidental or self-inflicted.

Sebastian managed to get to the cliff just on time to catch the falling boy. Pressing him hard against his chest, he jerked back up and delivered him on the top, staring at him like at the surprising, impossible creature he was.

“Why on earth would you do something like that?” he asked. He truly didn’t understand. Just today, the boy had declared his intention to see his revenge through, and now he was trying to kill himself?

“I was checking whether you are worthy of consuming my soul,” his Master told him, and a hot wave of shock ran through Sebastian’s body, rendering him speechless.

The boy had flung himself off the cliff to check whether he would manage to save him? What insanity was that? 

No matter how hard he tried, Sebastian couldn’t understand the motivation for such irrational decision. Had his Master begun to doubt his power? But there were safer ways to test his abilities, ones that didn’t involve a risk for his life.

Intrigued, he leaned closer, wondering if the scent of the boy’s emotions could give him a hint. However, before he could try to sort through them, a small hand collided with his cheek with a surprising strength.

It wasn’t particularly painful but it did send his body into stupor. Sebastian stared, all his senses shutting down for a while to process this incomprehensible action.

He listened to the boy’s cold, vehement words, and each of them fluttered somewhere in his chest, causing a warm, quivering sensation to rise within it. By the time the boy finished, Sebastian felt drunk on emotions his own body was producing, all new and exciting, born out of genuine shock. It wasn’t easy to take him aback yet his Master managed to do that over and over again. And his soul, mouth-wateringly flavourful, smelled even better now, its colour darkening to a misty white, thick and difficult to see through.

His fascination, rekindled after today, flared stronger, brighter, turning into thirst so intense that it crossed the threshold of interest, gaining the form of obsession.   

This was the first night that Sebastian spent in the anticipation of the morning, eager to be close to his Master again so that he could marvel at the renewed, incredible fragrance of his soul.

To his unpleasant surprise, in the morning, his Master wanted nothing to do with him.

 

 

***

 

In the course of the next week, Sebastian was forced to acknowledge that the dynamic between him and his Young Master had changed. The boy was cold, collected, and distant, refusing to even look at him without a need. Gone were the smiles and softer looks: now Sebastian’s company was palpably unwanted. And ironically, the more the boy pulled away, the stronger Sebastian’s urge to follow him was.

Who would have thought that he would start craving the impressed look on his Master’s face? So far, the boy had looked genuinely impressed only once, when Sebastian had restored the manor. If he had known how rare this look was back then, he would have treasured it. Now, it seemed, he was stuck with reserved, half-hearted expressions of approval at best and open contempt and avoidance at the majority of times. On the one hand, it was certainly preferable to the insults thrown at him during that first month, but it was also significantly less than he’d had a week ago.

Normally, Sebastian didn’t care about the attitudes of his Masters to him. Despite the possibility of soaking in their bitter emotions and staying sated to a degree, he preferred to keep his distance. The child, though… the child was different. Perhaps due to the fact that he constantly challenged Sebastian’s perception of him, blowing cold, warm, and now cold again, mixing all his notions and managing to surprise him time and time again.

Sebastian liked being surprised. Making him unable to predict what to expect was the biggest gift that any living being could bestow on him, so while several days ago, the boy’s growing clinginess repulsed him, now Sebastian wished to be in his presence himself.

“Today for dessert, I have prepared a double-chocolate sponge cake with strawberry sauce and hazelnut truffles,” he uttered, presenting a plate with a large piece to his Master. The boy had an alarming appetite for sweets that Sebastian had to regulate, but at the moment, he was willing to allow him a particularly generous serving.

He waited patiently until his Master looked away from the thick book he was reading and glanced at the dessert offered to him. No emotion touched his face, though — he simply focused on the book again, throwing a curt, “Dismissed.”

Two feelings that were becoming rapidly familiar, frustration and disappointment, sent a rush of dark sweetness through Sebastian, and he bowed before retreating, marvelling at the strange mix of dejection, thirst, and curiosity that seemed to settle somewhere in his chest.

Interesting. After all the time spent with this boy, he was growing quite a collection of feelings and emotions that had never graced him with their presence before.

His tendency to become obsessed with the strangest things had alienated him from many demons, but Sebastian had never regretted the impulses that led him. Right now, he truly wanted to be a perfect butler for the boy. He learned his Master’s gastronomic tastes perfectly and could experiment with the recipes now, devising more and more complex dishes. However, when it came to emotions… Sebastian had already met three versions of the boy. One was suspicious, meticulous, and cold; another one was semi-open and almost friendly, and the last one was vicious, vindictive, and distant. Forming one clear picture was impossible at this point, and it equally frustrated and captivated him.

Perhaps a riding lesson would please him, Sebastian mused. Despite the iciness the boy was emanating lately, one thing remained unchangeable — his delight at being praised. He was demonstrating a remarkable progress during riding lessons, so it was Sebastian’s best bet.

He wondered if with a little pressure, a fourth version of his Master would appear, with a new set of contradictory characteristics.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

 

 

***

 

 

“I could solve this case for you,” Sebastian offered indulgently, studying the boy’s pale face. “All you have to do is give me an order. You won’t have to question anyone in the underworld and you’ll be able to report to the Queen today.”

The boy gasped, probably in relief, and Sebastian’s lips stretched in a small, condescending smirk.

He hadn’t missed his Master’s wariness and anxiety as he received the Queen’s letter. Sebastian had learned everything he could about the Phantomhives, but despite the boy’s family’s reputation, he himself was a child. An atypical and complex child, but a child still. He wasn’t capable of running around London solving crimes, and despite his attempts to pretend he understood anything in the dealings of the underworld, Sebastian knew it was a lie.

The boy needed his help but Sebastian wasn’t willing to assist him until he admitted his helplessness himself. This was more amusing.

“Who do you take me for?” his Master snarled at him suddenly, and Sebastian frowned, puzzled.

The gasp hadn’t been caused by relief, then. It seemed he had miscalculated again.  

“My lord…”

“I asked you to sort through the letters so that I could know who cooperated with my predecessor and who were likely to cooperate with me. I don’t need you to solve anything for me! I can do that myself. I will require your assistance only in technical matters, where thinking isn’t needed. You’re a pawn, nothing more! Don’t delude yourself!”

_He_ was the one deluding himself?

Annoyed, Sebastian passed the letters he’d picked to the boy, smiling cordially to mask his scorn.

He would enjoy seeing him fail.

 

 

***

 

 

Sebastian had served more Masters than he could recall. Thousands of faces had already faded from his memory; hundreds remained blurred, and only some of them still lived in his memory.

Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian thought, would belong to the last category.

Technically, all demons could consume souls without necessarily forming a contract. However, unless they were young, such activities were frowned upon. It attracted the attention of the Shinigami and could damage the status of the demon. Sebastian had never been fond of the official rules and laws, but his position in the hierarchy was too high for him to disregard them entirely. So he formed contracts, usually short-term ones, choosing the blandest of souls with the simplest of wishes. Sating his hunger had been his sole goal for centuries and when he finally decided to change his habits, it turned out that finding unique souls that were willing to bargain with a demon was a daunting task.

Those he did find managed to hold his interest for a few months at most, and even they chose to transfer all their responsibilities to him. Ciel Phantomhive was the first who was ready to fight, risk, and bleed for the sake of his reputation — the reputation he intended to build himself, relying on Sebastian only when he absolutely had to.

Incredulous, Sebastian watched how his Master crept out of the house, clearly trying to remain unnoticed by him. Unable to imagine what he could be thinking, Sebastian followed quietly as his surprise and fascination shone brighter, filling his blood with a pleasant rush of something he couldn’t yet define.

He wanted to catch the boy, pull him close, curl around him and crush him, until every thought he had left his mind, baring themselves to Sebastian.

He needed to know them. He craved them.

When the boy stopped at the café where their murderer was working, Sebastian realised what was happening. When he saw the said murderer slide towards the oblivious boy, another new feeling joined his growing collection.

Uncertainty.

Based on the contract, he had to protect the boy – however, unless the boy was under the direct threat of dying, he didn’t necessarily have to interfere. Not to mention that it was the boy’s idea to escape without warning him, staying quiet so Sebastian wouldn’t be able to stop him.

What should he do? Warn the boy? Eliminate the attacker? Wait?

Too many possibilities. Some more intriguing than the others.

His seal began to throb, but Sebastian didn’t react. Dispassionately, he watched how his Master was knocked unconscious by the woman, tied, and gagged. Several men entered the kitchen and one of them grabbed the boy before carrying him into the basement.

Waiting it was, then.

 

 

***

 

“But she started to view a potential business as a playfield and got lost in her foolish ambitions. Pathetic.” Contempt in the voice of his Master was so biting that Sebastian almost purred with pleasure. His coldness was always alluring, but when it was aimed at someone other than him? It was positively irresistible.    

From his spot on the roof, Sebastian couldn’t see anything, but he heard every word, and each of them brought a tiny stab of admiration with it.

His Master hadn’t called for him even when he regained his consciousness and removed his gag. He assessed the situation quickly and began to interrogate other prisoners, cool and calm, as if he wasn’t in danger — or in pain, for that matter. Even from here, Sebastian could sense the blood from the cut on the boy’s head, with its strong, intoxicating flavour. He would have gladly used the opportunity to taste it when the boy was unconscious if he hadn’t had company. As it was, all Sebastian could do was breathe it in, imagining its taste.

He startled out of his fantasies only when the boy and others were joined by the murderer herself. When the boy finally tried to call for him, Sebastian pretended that he hadn’t heard. No direct order was given and despite the admiration that was still burning in his veins, he was equally irked at the boy’s stubbornness and his refusal to ask him to accompany him in the first place.

Ciel Phantomhive was smarter than Sebastian had believed initially, he was willing to admit it, but physically, he was more helpless than a kitten Sebastian had taken to feeding every morning.

Maybe he would be less reckless in the future.

However, when the boy, chained to the prisoners of a social standing so low, they should have never even spoken to him, never mind received the right to die by his side, was thrown into Thames, the first stirrings of anger broke Sebastian’s sadistic resolve.

This soul belonged to him. No one but him was allowed to treat it carelessly.

Sebastian left the roof and flung himself into the river, feeling how his human shape started melting into demonic one. His Master was on the brink of passing out again when Sebastian tore him from the chains and carried him to the surface, grimacing at how damaged his lungs already felt.  

He was right. They boy’s body was laughably weak, failing at the slightest strain.

“Sebastian,” his Master choked, shivering so violently as if he’d been submerged into ice, not in the late spring water.

Sebastian fully expected to be ordered to save the thieves — he could sense the boy’s conflict, his regret and compassion towards those pathetic worms. When his Master demanded that he secure the evidence instead, Sebastian couldn’t fight off a grin.

How promising his little soul was. While the notion of compassion was ludicrous, it felt like a pleasing part of the boy, creating a delicious contrast between his uncertain darkness and prominent goodness. Even Sebastian found it difficult to predict which of these parts would prevail eventually but it would be interesting to toy with both of them, influencing them until the boy became the most perfect version of what he could be.

But first, he had to fulfil his duties.

Sebastian stepped towards the killers who seemed to have frozen at the sight of him and let his lips stretch into an even wider smile. The humanity bled out of him entirely, replaced by impenetrable darkness and longing for destruction, and he succumbed to them readily, thrumming with vicious energy and life.

He knocked out the woman, the leader of this dubious gang, first, hitting her in the same exact spot his Master had been hit. When she collapsed, he focused on the men, his main prey — the prey he was allowed to kill, hissing in delight when two of them tried to flee.  

The screams were music to his ears. The blood he absorbed was an essence that sated his hunger for a while, but when the last of the men fell and Sebastian turned back to his Master, this hunger flared anew.

The boy smelled intoxicating. Half-dead and exhausted, he looked fragile and defenceless, and Sebastian reached for him before he could stop himself, his claws lengthening further. The small wound on the boy’s head was still bleeding and the scent of it was stronger than that of the bodies of the murdered men combined.  

The hunger overcame him. Sebastian growled, inhaling the maddening scent greedily, and clenched the boy’s coat, ready to jerk him closer and suck the soul right out of him, contract and rules be damned. However, as he leaned closer, something drew his attention, dispersing the ravenous fog in his mind.

His feather was clenched in the boy’s hand, so tightly, as if it was his most precious possession. Sebastian stilled, staring at him, and slowly, the shards of darkness began to leave his body, replaced with deeper, unfamiliar sensations.

He wasn’t sure what to think of it. Had his Master grabbed it by accident, as his consciousness was fading? But the way he was holding it… no, he must have picked it up deliberately. Why? Whatever attachment he’d started to feel for Sebastian, it was shattered to nothing after the incident at the palace.        

Two weeks ago, when Sebastian still believed in his own wrong assumptions about the boy, this sight would have only sickened him. Now… now he wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Hesitating, Sebastian shook his head to clear it from the remains of the hunger. Another first for him — he’d never lost control like this. He’d never been genuinely overcome by thirst for his Masters before, not to this point.

Carefully, gently, Sebastian lifted the boy into his arms, watching his face rapturously.  

He would complete the task assigned to him later. Right now, he had to deliver his Master to safety.

 

 

***

 

 

The boy developed a fever. Thankfully, Tanaka, a strange and usually silent old man, had returned from the hospital recently, so he supplied Sebastian with everything he needed to help his Master combat his illness.

Upon careful consideration, Sebastian decided not to remove the feather from the boy’s hand. He was curious what he would do as he woke up. However, when the boy did awaken and stubbornly kept the feather close, even glaring at Sebastian like he was going to take it away, his initial astonishment and incomprehension returned with doubled force.

What could the boy want with his feather? It didn’t hold any power. Was it truly a sign of attachment? But it didn’t make sense, not after everything that transpired and especially not when Sebastian himself was guarding his bed, ready to execute every order given to him.

“Go away,” the boy demanded, still delirious from fever, clutching the feather even tighter.

He had to go away? Had he been replaced by his own feather?

Deeply confused, Sebastian bowed his head and left the room, only to return five seconds later. The boy was already sleeping, hugging the feather to his chest.

A vague sense of displeasure hissed somewhere at the back of his mind. Sebastian frowned, trying to shake it off, but the hissing got louder, growing into a growl of annoyance the source of which he couldn’t understand.

Well, if the boy preferred a feather to his company, Sebastian didn’t mind. He had other matters that required his attention.

 

His annoyance lasted longer than he himself had expected. When the time to check on the boy came, Sebastian asked Tanaka to do that, and a minute later, his Master’s piercing screams tore through the silence.

“Sebastian! Sebastian!”

Surprise quickly morphed into glee. Sebastian stepped into the room and took a moment to drink in the view of the boy thrashing in his bed, his face twisted in delectable agony, before reaching for him and touching his forehead gently. Instantly, the tension left his Master and he relaxed, leaning into his touch.

A shadow of sadness flickered across Tanaka’s face, but he only bowed to Sebastian, acknowledging his superiority in the rights they had on the boy. Sebastian nodded at him in response, barely hiding his satisfied grin, and then focused on his Master.

As soon as the door closed, he abandoned the attempt to hold onto his human appearance. Inhaling the mixed, fevered emotions coming from the boy, Sebastian leaned over him, knowing he was awake but too dazed to remember it later.

He wasn’t certain what he intended. Perhaps to frighten the child further, to show him _whose_ presence he had just chosen over that of a genuinely caring servant, _whose_ feather he was holding in his hands as if it was some protective charm.  

The boy saw it all — the silhouette of his true form, the red-eyed glare, the snarl, but impossibly, he only smiled in relief, like he found this sight comforting instead of disturbing.

Sebastian felt how his eyes widened in disbelief, and widened further when the boy fell asleep, still smiling peacefully. The only feeling he could sense from him now was tranquillity, tranquillity that shouldn’t have existed at all in these circumstances.

Entranced, Sebastian knelt before the bed and removed his gloves, tracing his black claw along the slim throat slick with sweat. He could feel the faint tremor of the pulse there, the testimony of life hidden in this small body, and it was difficult not to think of how easy it would be to end it. A little pressure, and his nail would break the thin layer of skin, causing the boy’s body to bleed out and making him choke to death. Or he could move his nail up, stopping at the eye where his seal was placed, and drive it through the translucent eyelid, digging into the boy’s brain, where all those unfathomable thoughts were stored.

With difficulty, Sebastian forced himself to remove his hand, though his eyes stayed glued to his Master’s face.

He wanted to crawl into this boy and devour him from inside, until everything that made him who he was belonged to Sebastian. He wanted to learn every thought of his, understand everything that motivated him. Did he wish to avenge his parents or himself? Did he even understand what giving away his soul meant?

With a sigh, Sebastian regained his human shape and reluctantly stepped away from the bed.

His Master was likely to want a dessert when he woke up.

It was time to test a new recipe.

 

 

***

 

 

In the months that followed, his Master had become quite skilled at solving crimes with minimal assistance. However, his tendency to get into troubles wasn’t diminishing at all, and while it undeniably made Sebastian’s life interesting, it was also extremely bothersome. The boy managed to endanger himself even when he was simply standing on the street, which spoke of his appalling inattentiveness and which meant that Sebastian often had to try to be in several places at once.

They had just eliminated a murderer who was obsessed with blonde-haired women and Sebastian was destroying all evidence of the body’s existence when his seal began to twitch. Tensing, he crushed the remaining leg to dust and dashed outside, where his Master was located.

The problem became immediately apparent. The boy was standing at the streetlamp, gazing somewhere vacantly, while a huge, badly dressed man was creeping in his direction with an arrogant, predatory smirk on his face.

Sebastian watched this picture, considering his options. Based on the smell he could detect from this stinking creature, he was interested in things that would inevitably send his Master into a deep pit of nightmares. At the same time, the boy was annoyingly reckless with his own safety and deserved to be taught a lesson. Even if he called him on time, Sebastian could still wait for about twenty seconds. It would be enough to terrify his Master, to tear into the already raw wound left by his past and make it bleed profusely. Maybe next time, he would be more alert to his surroundings.

There was also the fact that being caught by this man would make his Master scream for him, and what a beautiful sound that was. It was the only time when Sebastian enjoyed hearing his hateful name.

The boy let out a sigh and hugged himself in a clear attempt to get warm, and the man slowed, preparing for an attack. One of his hands reached for a button on his pants, pulling it loose, and just like that, Sebastian’s amusement vanished.

He reached the man before he could make the final step towards the boy, snapping his neck and whisking him away. Throwing the body on the ground, Sebastian stared at it for a while, trying to understand why he’d done it.

In the end, he had to admit that he wasn’t sure. One moment, he was gleefully anticipating the splash of suffering and horror in his Master, and the next, the thought of this dirty creature laying hands on him became intolerable. 

Sebastian couldn’t recall the last time he had to question himself so often. The boy steadily continued to bring out the strangest impulses in him.

The air around him darkened suddenly, whispering a warning, and Sebastian snapped his head up.

No sounds could be heard, only the silence of the night. But something was lingering here, something that only demonic intuition could sense.

He was being watched.

Sebastian waited, wondering if whomever was watching him would reveal themselves, but as nothing happened, he shrugged.

He wasn’t worried in the slightest. All mysteries had a tendency to unravel sooner or later. 

This time, when he returned to the boy, he let his presence be seen.

“I’m done, Master,” he announced, and was treated to a beautiful scowl.

“Too long,” the boy muttered and held his hands up. Sebastian smiled at him, picking him up obediently and shielding him from the wind.

“Where to now?” he wondered.

“Why do you always ask such stupid questions?” His Master’s voice was sharp but at the same time, he wrapped his hands around Sebastian’s neck, leaning his head against his shoulder and snuggling closer. “Home,” he added sleepily.

‘ _Maybe that’s the secret_ , _’_ Sebastian thought. His Master was inattentive because of his constant sleepiness, which in turn was caused by his nightmares.

Sebastian had to try and find the way of dealing with them. He was one hell of a butler, after all.

 

 

***

 

 

To his chagrin, he failed to find a solution. The boy’s nightmares persisted and all Sebastian could think of doing was come into his room to wake him, announcing that he was safe.

When the letter from Madam Red arrived, urging him to organise a celebration of the boy’s birthday, Sebastian decided that it could be a useful idea. The boy forbade him to even speak of this day, but surely it would help to distract him? Constant reliving of his past and the blood-filled cases he was being sent on by the Queen were hardly beneficial for his already traumatised mind, and while Sebastian appreciated how the anguish intensified the flavour of his Master’s soul, as a butler, he knew he had to attempt to create a balance of a sort.

He had to be perfect for his Master. It was the least he could do in exchange for such a unique, complex soul.

He’d begun his preparations early, devising a menu that would consist only of his Master’s favourite dishes. Then he sent out the invitation letters and planted a new set of white roses in the greenhouse, adding a self-made fertiliser that was supposed to speed up the process of growth considerably.

Sebastian was fairly confident of his plan until the day of the celebration. The moment he saw his Master’s grim, unhappy face, he realised he’d made a mistake. A bad one.

“Sebastian,” the boy sounded worryingly lifeless. “What have you done?”

“Madam Red has written me a letter, insisting that I organise a celebration event today,” he replied carefully. “After careful consideration, I decided that it is my responsibility as a butler to ensure that you enjoy your birthday…”

The boy listened calmly, measuring him with a cold, steady gaze. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, Sebastian tried to describe the menu he’d prepared, hoping that it would soften the boy’s mood, but before he could finish, a hoarse “shut up” interrupted him.

He fell silent, looking at his Master and feeling a strange, unpleasant knot in his chest. This knot acquired thorns as the boy tore into him verbally, with all viciousness Sebastian knew he possessed, throwing _moronic_ , _half-witted_ , and _incompetent_ at him, almost shaking with fury.

“May I remind you that it is your aunt who suggested the idea of celebration?” Sebastian tried to speak calmly despite the pressure in his chest, but when the boy replied, “She doesn’t know me. You were supposed to,” the hellish knot suddenly increased in size, squashing his organs mercilessly.

  ‘ _I do know you_ ,’ he thought darkly. ‘ _You’re mine._ ’

But the boy was right, wasn’t he? He’d overstepped the boundaries of a butler. More than that, he’d betrayed the trust of his Master. Who but Sebastian knew how much the boy hated social gatherings? And now that he had elaborated on his position, Sebastian was annoyed with himself for having failed to consider it. How foolish was it to believe that the boy would enjoy to be reminded of this particular anniversary?

“Get everything ready for their arrival,” the boy ordered him bitterly. “I don’t want to see you until then.” 

Another irritating pang of emotions he didn’t understand. Was that guilt, he wondered? He’d certainly never experienced something like this before. And if it was, why would he feel it? He might have made a mistake but he’d made plenty of them during the eleven months of his service, especially at first. Why did such reaction appear now?

Nodding wordlessly, Sebastian left the room and moved to the kitchen, but when he heard a loud bang and the boy’s painful gasp, he rushed back, hovering near the door.

No more sounds could be heard but his seal didn’t burn, meaning that his Master was fine. Still, Sebastian found himself unable to move away, listening to the silence and wondering what he could do to chase away the unpleasant feeling that only continued to grow in him.

 

 

***

 

 

With every passing minute of the celebratory dinner, Sebastian was getting acquainted with a sense of mortification. The louder Madam Red laughed, the more nonsensical stories about the Phantomhives Alexis Midford told, the more questions Lady Elisabeth fired and the more criticism Francis Midford unleashed, the darker his Master’s face became, until it looked like he was about to be violently sick. Even Sebastian considered this gathering ghastly, so for his Master, it had to feel twice as dreadful.

This was a brilliant way to torment the boy while pretending to have his best interests at heart and normally, Sebastian would have enjoyed knowing that his plan had worked so well. But the most infuriating thing was, he hadn’t planned this. He genuinely wanted to let his Master celebrate his birthday, and if there was something Sebastian hated, it was miscalculating. 

Seeing the boy limp was surprisingly off-putting, another thing that was quite atypical of him. Usually, Sebastian enjoyed any display of pain he could derive from his Master, but this time, he found it distasteful. Distasteful to the point where he was consumed by the need to make him sit and examine his foot, but the celebration was still ongoing and he still had a role to play.

When everyone finally left, Sebastian attempted to persuade the boy to let him take a look, only to be swiftly dismissed.

Banished behind the door, he stared at its surface, curiously listening to the emotions that were surging through him and trying to identify them.

Ah. Rejection. He hadn’t thought it would have such a tangy flavour. He’d already faced rejection from the boy after their visit to the palace, back during the first months of their contract, and while it felt vaguely unsettling, it was nothing in comparison to the fascinating mix of feelings and sensations that overflowed him now.

After thorough contemplation, Sebastian decided that he disliked feeling like this. His craving to be close to the boy when he was angry with him was fierce and unyielding, igniting hunger so maddening, it demanded that he barge into this room and grab the boy, crushing his forgiveness out of him by force.

Rubbing his chest in attempt to alleviate this urge, Sebastian left, reviewing the options he had.

Acting forcefully went against their contract, not to mention that it was such a crude way of achieving his goals that Sebastian had always despised it, another reason why many of his fellow demons, even those of an equal rank, scoffed at him. Furthermore, even if he did betray his own rules, the forceful approach would never work on his Master. He had to devise something more intricate, more cunning.

Doubling his attempts to be flawless seemed like a promising choice. His Master did appreciate perfection.

In the morning, Sebastian poured even more efforts into fulfilling his duties than he normally did. He brought the tea and the newspaper as soon as the boy began to stir in his bed, bowing respectfully and keeping his voice deferential even when he received no answer.

After the boy finished his tea, Sebastian readily bent on one knee, beginning their dressing ritual. He made sure that his touches were gentle, especially when he touched his Master’s hurt foot, brushing against the delicate calf lightly. Then he started slipping the dark blue buttons of his jacket into the buttonholes, slowly and just as gently, admiring how beautiful the garments he’d selected for today looked on the boy.

When he finished, though, he was treated to the same cold expression he’d seen yesterday. There was no even minimal softening of the boy’s features, and while a part of Sebastian felt dejected, another one rejoiced in the sudden flare of delight.

His Master was the most peculiar creature he had ever met.

“Leave,” the boy snapped, pinning him down with an annoyed look. “I don’t want to see you unless I call for you.”

“As you wish,” Sebastian agreed. “However, I need to know your choices for today’s breakfast. I have prepared three kinds of tarts that—”

“I don’t want any,” his Master interrupted him, and against his will, Sebastian’s eyebrows rose.

“You don’t want a dessert?” he asked incredulously and immediately earned a blue-eyed glare.

“Are you planning to make me repeat myself? Haven’t you annoyed me enough?”    

There was nothing Sebastian could do other than bow and leave, strangely upset at having his cooking rejected as well.

Maybe tarts were a bad choice. Too simple for someone with such refined tastes as his Master.

He would have to prepare something spectacular for the afternoon.

 

 

***

 

 

To Sebastian’s dismay, the afternoon dessert was discarded just like the morning one. The one he’d made for the evening was similarly ignored, and furthermore, the boy didn’t even finish the supper. 

Yet another rejection made Sebastian’s blood sing but at the same time, it made him unable to focus on anything else other than earning his Master’s forgiveness. By morning, he developed his own kind of tea, made of the white roses the boy loved so much. When he delivered and presented it, the boy stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and Sebastian’s brows furrowed. Was something wrong again?

To his pleasure, his Master drank the tea entirely. Then he gave him a stifled nod of approval, and something flourished in Sebastian’s chest, sending warmth trickling through his veins.  

Strange. He’d have never believed that pleasing someone — a human, no less, could feel so immensely satisfying.

However, his triumph was short-lived. His Master refused to even touch the almond dessert he’d prepared for lunch, wrinkling his nose as if it was the most revolting thing he had the misfortune of seeing.  

Now even more determined to break through this wall of rejection, Sebastian spent half of the following night on devising several more unique recipes, critically assessing the texture, the flavour, and the colour of what he’d made. He was done by morning, so when his lord woke up, he served him a cake in the form of a white rose, glazed with white chocolate he had specifically developed.

Shock and disbelief on the boy’s face tasted like victory. Mesmerised, Sebastian watched how his offering was accepted, admired, and devoured, and he couldn’t help but smile smugly at this sight.

The boy noticed.

His next desserts went steadily ignored.

 

 

***

 

 

“Question one,” the boy said. “Can you hurt me physically, despite being in a contract with me? Deliberately?”  

His voice was calm and indifferent — only the underlying notes of tension belied its tranquillity. The fact that he was asking something like this after just being thrown off the horse, when Sebastian was still holding him in his arms, spoke of boldness and decisiveness that many demons would envy.

“Yes,” Sebastian confessed, and when a sudden blooming scent of fear assaulted his nostrils, he barely fought the impulse to tighten his grip around the boy, tighten it until he heard these delicate bones snap.

The boy’s fear was intoxicating. Just imagining how thick with it his blood would feel made Sebastian shudder, and with a corner of his eye, he saw the beginnings of his wings materialising from the darkness, twitching in their urge to wrap themselves around the boy to hold him while Sebastian would tear his body to pieces with his claws.

Then the memory of the boy’s laughter burst into his head, the laughter he had worked so hard on earning, and the impulse passed.

He hadn’t made a fool of himself by running alongside his Master’s horse for nothing.

“Contract or not, I could hurt you,” Sebastian said, watching the boy’s face for reaction intently. “I could even kill you. However, I will not, because it would mean that I wouldn’t be able to touch your soul.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but it was the truth he was going to adhere to.

He would not hurt this boy.

Not until the end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half will be posted a bit later - maybe around Saturday :)


	11. Sebastian. Transitioning. Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your reviews and kudos, I'm so excited and happy that you enjoyed Sebastian's chapter!
> 
> The same warnings (creepiness, violence) apply to this second and last part of his POV. It covers the rest of the events plus the events of E1 of the anime. Hope you'll also enjoy it!

The descending twilight sent the majority of the passers-by hurrying to cafes, carriages, or their houses, leaving the streets half-deserted. The winter coldness was increasing steadily, growing sharp and unpleasant, but his Master was stubbornly waiting behind one of the street corners, peeking around it occasionally.

“I could simply steal those coins from him without him even noticing,” Sebastian offered mildly, and his little lord sniffed and then frowned at him.

“No need,” he said brusquely. “I’m going to do that myself.”

“The Earl of Phantomhive is going to steal from someone?” Sebastian gasped in fake outrage and was rewarded with a slight twitching of the boy’s lips.

“Having my butler steal for me would be equally unacceptable,” he noted. Despite the warm coat, he was clearly cold. The tip of his nose had turned bright-red almost an hour ago but it looked like none of Sebastian’s arguments would work here, not when they were investigating yet another case on the Queen’s behalf.

“No,” the boy continued, “he’s going to give me some of those coins himself. Then, we will order an expertise, and if they are indeed fake, like the Queen believes, we will let the Scotland Yard know. We’re bound to get acquainted with them at some point, anyway.”

“How are you planning to make Lord Jameson share his coins with you?” Sebastian arched his eyebrow, genuinely curious. His Master had an intricate mind, but to force a Lord suspected of forgery to give away some of the allegedly forged coins? It didn’t seem possible even for him.

A mysterious, cunning smile graced his Master’s lips — such a rare and beautiful sight.

“Even if he is the forger we need, he is not completely despicable,” the boy stated. “He participates in charity and from what we’ve learned, he’s compassionate.”

Sebastian considered these words but they still didn’t make much sense to him.

“So what?” he wondered. “Are you planning to pretend that you are raising money for someone? Or that participating in his own capture is a form of charity?”

Snorting, the boy shook his head.

“You are hopeless at times,” he uttered wryly, shivering when a particularly strong surge of wind assaulted him. “Honestly, for a demon…” Suddenly, his demeanour changed, and the excited light entered his eye. “Here he is!”

Sebastian took a careful look, locating their target effortlessly.

“Be that as it may—” he started but his Master interrupted him.

“Slap me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Slap me,” the boy repeated impatiently. “Obviously, not hard enough to break my neck, but enough for it to leave traces. Slap me, right now!”

Sebastian stood thunderstruck, staring at his Master in frozen shock.

Hit him?

He had imagined killing this boy in thousands ways, thousands times. He imagined breaking his bones, tearing him to tiny, bloody shreds, even devouring him alive, drinking in his screams and sobs. But those were fantasies only, and if they grew into actual impulses, Sebastian always managed to suppress them — for now, at least.

Hitting him, though, using such a human way of inflicting violence? It was disturbingly real and it didn’t sit well with him. Not at all.

“Don’t just stand there!” his Master hissed furiously. “Be quick!”

Still, Sebastian hesitated, and the boy growled before pressing his fingers to his marked eye.

“Hit me, Sebastian. This is an order.”

This so-called order was composed in the most abysmal way, leaving Sebastian with numerous openings he could use against this foolish creature. But the boy kept glaring, waiting, and Sebastian raised his arm and slapped him, even though everything in him protested against it.

This was not his idea of violence. When the time that would allow him to hurt his lord came, he would do it differently. Very differently.  

The boy let out a surprised noise as he staggered under the impact of the blow, and then blood began to seep from between his lips. Sebastian stared, flabbergasted, refusing to believe his eyes. When his Master spat a small white tooth into his hand, looking equally stunned, Sebastian’s eyes widened and something toxic and bitter swirled in his stomach.

He thought he had hit the boy with moderate strength. His blow wasn’t supposed to make him bleed, and it was most definitely not strong enough to knock out his tooth. How could he have misjudged his strength so badly?

The boy was the first to broach the awkward silence.

“Well,” he said, “it’s even better this way. It will be more realistic.”

Before Sebastian could say anything, his lord threw the tooth on the ground, smeared the blood across his mouth, shook off his hat and stumbled towards Lord Jameson.

Sebastian watched how he disappeared behind the corner. Then he bent down, picked up the discarded tooth and looked at it as the toxic knot within him tightened.

He disliked feeling like this. He disliked hurting his Master when it wasn’t his intention.

What was the reckless child even thinking, ordering something like that? Any other demon would have used this opportunity to pummel him to death, interpreting his words as the permission to kill him, taking his soul and leaving his drained, bloodied body on the ground.

Why hadn’t he?

The thought flashed through his mind, but thinking about it required analysis that Sebastian wasn’t willing to undertake right now.

Instead, he hid the tooth in his pocket and tuned in to hear his Master, trying to understand his plan.

“Attacked?” Lord Jameson was saying, sounding troubled. “Poor child! Were you travelling alone?”

“Y-yes,” his Master’s voice trembled so realistically, Sebastian grimaced in distaste. “I was supposed to get home but… they took all my money. I cannot even afford a carriage! I apologise, I know it’s bad manners, but could you help me, please? I just need to get home. I promise I will return everything to you the moment I arrive to my manor.”

“Of course,” the man assured him, and Sebastian could hear how he began to count the coins.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the boy for his bold ideas, and yet… and yet this mediocre case wasn’t worth his tooth. Why was his lord so obsessed with solving each case assigned to him to such degree of perfection? This was what Sebastian found most troubling. Was he truly so loyal to the Queen that even his own safety paled in comparison?

The Queen. A fascinating human, truly, whose viciousness and greed had achieved more than most demons could ever aspire to.

Sebastian had his own suspicions about her and her possible involvement in the tragedy of Phantomhives. Numerous hired men and women that attempted to break into the manor and attack his Master even before the news about his return reached the underworld, their sheer number and the persistency of their attacks could mean only one thing — the Queen or her representatives were sending them. They were the only ones with enough power to keep hiring this many assassins for one, allegedly defenceless child when only a selected few knew about his survival. Moreover, as soon as the attacks stopped, the letter with invitation to the palace arrived.

The tasks assigned to his Master were also dubious at best. Without Sebastian’s assistance, the boy would have been dead in the first days of his work. A woman like the Queen could hardly be that oblivious and guileless.

However, the boy would never listen to him without evidence, and Sebastian himself wasn’t invested enough to start his own investigation, especially since the Queen, even if he was right, had the murders executed by someone else. As his Master liked to say, he was a pawn, nothing more, so he would let his lord make his own moves.  

Moreover, what a pleasure it would be to bathe in the boy’s turmoil and pain if the Queen was indeed the mastermind behind the deaths of his parents and his torture. Someone he was trying to serve so devotedly, someone who he deeply respected, turning out to be his biggest enemy. The shock and denial that would fill his eyes, the way his lips would tremble, genuinely this time, from the betrayed, uncontrollable tears... His soul would undoubtedly darken to the most impenetrable shade of grim grey, and after killing the Queen as per their contract, Sebastian would gladly tear it right from the boy’s chest, deliberately piercing his heart with his claws and holding it until its last, dying twitch.    

A warning bell rang in his ears suddenly, putting a stop to his dreams and making him straighten and look around.

Someone was watching him. Again. Had probably been watching him from the moment he and his Master arrived here.

Smiling slightly, Sebastian glanced back at the boy, who was approaching him with a self-satisfied smirk on his bloodied mouth.

He had an idea of who their observer could be.

He just wasn’t sure what he wanted.

 

 

***

 

 

The boy was so consumed by his satisfaction at having completed another case that he never raised the question of his broken tooth. He still seemed upset about Sebastian organising a birthday party for him but he didn’t care about being hit like that.

Sebastian didn’t understand him. The way his Master was acting was absolutely inconceivable. He could punish him for the wrong flavour of tea but he ignored the instance of Sebastian overestimating his strength and harming him?

His confusion left him strangely unsettled, and this unsettledness amplified when he and the boy were having a Latin lesson. Upon checking his answers, Sebastian immediately noticed a small mistake in translation... and paused.

A few days ago, he would have gladly punished the boy. Now, he wavered.

He’d experienced the same unexplainable hesitation back when he realised that his overuse of strikes had made his Master’s hands flushed and trembling. He’d chosen against hitting him then and he felt equally reluctant to do that now. The emotions he experienced after slapping the boy were still fresh in his memory and for whatever reason, he wasn’t willing to relive them.

Sebastian glanced at the pointer, then at the boy. Then at the mistake he’d made.

Well. It was rather minor. It didn’t really warrant punishment. The boy had made a remarkable progress over the last months and Sebastian rarely had to correct him.

Perhaps it was time to choose another form of punishment. Physical one had stopped being satisfying.

“Everything is correct,” Sebastian lied, carefully putting the sheet of paper aside. His Master beamed at him and he found the sight quite sore.

He would make today’s dessert out of the darkest and bitterest chocolate, Sebastian decided. And he would refuse to remake it.

In these circumstances, it was a sufficient punishment.

 

 

***

 

 

The process of finding more servants for the manor was deeply entertaining. Discussions and debates with his Master, the search process, consultations with Lau and stalking of the potential candidates were more engaging that any task Sebastian had ever been assigned. He was proud as he finally managed to locate those who his Master approved of, but this feeling began to wane as soon as he took them to the manor.

Mey-Rin was a bland, annoying fool who couldn’t make a step without tripping, but overall, she was harmless. Finnian, on the other hand…

Sebastian liked the idea of hiring someone with Finnian’s backstory, but when he actually saw this strange boy in the company of his Master, his satisfaction shattered.

What had he been thinking? Finnian was clearly dangerous. One wrong touch, and the body of his Master would be crushed.

Not that the idea seemed unappealing, but it was one thing to harm the boy himself and another thing entirely to let him be harmed by others. Particularly as Sebastian treated his butler duties with utmost seriousness and allowed the thoughts of harming his Master remain just that, thoughts, or plans for the distant future, when their contract would come to an end.

“Good,” his lord approved, smiling in a way that Sebastian couldn’t define as either genuine or fake. “Now add another one.”

“Young Master!”

“Quiet!” the boy glared at him, silencing him effectively, before focusing on Finnian as he was attempting to hold his hand.  

No, Sebastian didn’t understand him at all.

The boy hated being touched, even casually. Even by his relatives. He had disliked Sebastian’s touches as well at first, and only months later, he seemed to grow used to them.

Sebastian revelled in the knowledge that he was the only one who the boy willingly let close to him, but when he was doing things like this? Granted, his Master was evidently engaged in another manipulation of his, wanting to earn Finnian’s loyalty, but as a butler, Sebastian couldn’t approve of his chosen tactic.

When the boy’s hand was forcefully pushed to the very floor and he gasped, Sebastian decided that watching passively wasn’t an option. He snatched his Master from his spot and pressed him close, jumping away from Finnian.

As he’d expected, his efforts weren’t rewarded. Instead, his Master kicked him right in the shin before hissing, “Let me go!”

“But—”

“Let me go this instant, it’s an order!”

Reluctantly, Sebastian complied, and was forced to spend the next hour as a witness to his Master’s utter recklessness. Finnian possessed power that could break the boy’s arm in a way that no one, not even Sebastian would be able to fix properly, leaving him a cripple. He had to understand it yet he was still risking.

His stubbornness knew no boundaries and while it was fascinating at times, it was also extremely bothersome.

When this appalling initiation ceremony finally came to an end, Finnian moved to his Master and pressed his head against his shoulder, and Sebastian sneered. It would work better if Finnian wasn’t towering over the boy. As it was, he looked ridiculous.

“Thank you,” Finnian whispered, and Young Master raised his hands, patting him on the back carefully.

The gesture drew Sebastian in and he stared attentively, memorizing each movement.

He’d never seen anyone being comforted before, not like this. If he had, then he must have considered it irrelevant and removed it from his memory.

His Master was notably hesitant in applying his caresses but Finnian seemed to enjoy it — his body relaxed and he began to emanate a repellent brand of happiness. Perhaps this was what Sebastian himself could use on the boy during his nightmares?

Intrigued by the idea, Sebastian replayed the scene he had just witnessed to make sure he remembered every crucial bit.

He was looking forward to testing it.

 

 

***

 

 

The case of murdered children who had been violated before their deaths was a gift that Sebastian hadn’t expected this soon. His lord remained strong and reserved, like always, but Sebastian could sense his real emotions, could see the anxious flashes of darkness in his soul. The case was affecting his Master. If not for the trick Sebastian had learned back at the beginning of their cooperation, that every light touch helped to ground the boy, their first meeting with the Scotland Yard would have ended in embarrassment.

His lord endured everything stoically, but when the night came, the things he had to be thinking of during the daylight came to the surface.

Sebastian had to admit that he had lost the sense of time, too busy with liquidating the results of their so-called servants’ activities, so when the boy’s screams reached him, they almost took him aback.

His Master’d had many nightmares over the time Sebastian knew him, but he had never called his name before — not like this. The terror and despair in his voice were so piercing that for a moment, as he was moving towards his bedroom, Sebastian thought that something might be wrong. Could anyone have gotten into the house?

When he flew in, though, all tension left his body. There was no one in the room with the boy. He was perfectly safe. However, he kept jerking in his bed violently, screaming Sebastian’s name with increasing despondency, and it was unusual enough for Sebastian to rush to his side.

He had never seen a nightmare so strong. The fact that the boy was calling for him was undeniably pleasing but Sebastian couldn’t enjoy it sufficiently, at least not yet.

“My lord,” he called, stopping and then kneeling next to the bed. “I’m here.”

To his consternation, the boy didn’t appear to hear him. His face twisted in an anguished grimace and he only choked out again, “Sebastian!”

“I’m here,” he repeated, at a loss now. What was he supposed to do to break his Master from the nightmare?

Fortunately, at this very moment, the boy moaned and opened his eyes, blinking in disorientation. And then he did the most unexpected thing.

Before Sebastian could open his mouth to say anything, his Master threw himself on him, wrapping his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder, breathing harshly. It was so highly out of character for him that Sebastian froze, his mind blanking out, unsure of how to react.

“Kill them,” the boy muttered. “Kill them, Sebastian. Kill them all.”

“I already did, Master,” he replied uncertainty.

“Good.” The boy breathed in deeply, shifting closer, as if trying to meld with him. “If they return, you will kill them again, yes?”

“Of course. I will do anything to protect you. Until the very end.”  

Another sigh. Another attempt to melt against him.

The feeling that overcame Sebastian this time was fragile and hopelessly unfamiliar. The boy’s arms felt overheated around his neck, his body shuddering but continuing to seek comfort from him, and something gentle, hesitant, and possessive came to life within his chest, making his eyes flare brightly.

Only now did he remember about his vague plan. Carefully, still bewildered by his reaction, Sebastian mirrored the touches he’d memorised, stroking the boy’s back lightly. For a moment, he got no reaction, but then his Master began to relax. With a trembling sigh, he pressed even closer, so close that Sebastian could physically sense the wild heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, and a new surge of the same strange feeling washed over him, this time reaching even those parts of his body that had remained immune to it before.

Then, just as suddenly, the tension returned to the boy, breaking the peculiar stillness around them.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, pushing Sebastian away so vehemently, as if his touch burned him.

Confusion and something else, something dark and acidic, slammed into him, and his heart constricted in a way Sebastian had never had to endure before.

Was his human body failing in some way?

There were no other alarming signs, though, so he ignored the unpleasant sensation and gazed at the boy coldly.

He tolerated his accusations, knowing that they were valid yet unable to accept it and mean it. Since he failed to find an explanation for his strange reaction, his puzzlement turned into more familiar hostility, and when he looked at the boy again, he wanted nothing but to crush him.

The ridiculous child terrified himself over the shadows of the past that could never hurt him again, waking the entire house with his pathetic screams, and then tried to tell him that he was an embarrassment? How human of him, trying to shift the blame onto someone else.

 

The night had passed, but the hissing animosity in him hadn’t. When his Master recoiled from the tablecloth stained with the spilled wine during his breakfast, staring at it as if it was his nightmare come to life, Sebastian twisted his lips in a sneer.

“Come, now, Young Master,” he drawled. “It is merely wine. Surely you don’t expect it to pose any danger to you?”        

The boy stared at him wide-eyed, with a hurt expression, and Sebastian felt how his lips parted further in a half-satisfied, half-mocking smile. The urge to humiliate the child more, to watch him break filled him with vivid, predatory interest, but before he could press, Baldroy snapped, “Hey, don’t talk to him like that!”

Taken aback, Sebastian stared at him, wondering how the only servant he was personally interested in, the one who his Master hadn’t even wanted to hire, could come to his defence so rapidly.

As a demon, he was annoyed, his already dark mood souring even further. As a butler, though, he thought he should be pleased. After all, the point of hiring those morons was to protect the Young Master, so it was good to know that they already treated their responsibilities seriously.

Still, irrational anger continued to burn in his veins, demanding to be let out, and when the boy told him about his plan, Sebastian smiled slowly.

He already had an idea.

 

 

***

 

 

Frederick Lyndon was a slimy and nausea-inducing human being that didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as his Master, and Sebastian would enjoy tearing him apart, but first things first.

His Master was holding on admirably, Sebastian couldn’t deny it. However, he was confident that this resolve was going to snap very soon, and he anticipated being the one to push the last pillar from beneath it. For all his attempts to solve the case himself, for all his creativity in devising a special approach to the task, the boy was still haunted by his shadows too intensely to withstand the test Sebastian had prepared.

He would fail. He was already failing, glancing around uncertainly and forgetting the role he’d willingly assumed, and watching him fall to pieces in the daylight, not during the nightmares where Sebastian couldn’t follow him, was captivating.

He only hoped that it would be worth it. He was displaying an ultimate restraint in letting Lyndon ogle his Master — even the darkest, mostly dormant part of him, which urged him to kill the boy on more than once occasion regardless of the contract, disliked it.

“As your servants are away, I could leave him with you for several days,” Sebastian suggested, absorbing the splash of shock and horror he could sense within his Master. “Maybe a change of places will make him more organised.”

His gaze didn’t leave the boy’s face even for a minute, waiting for the moment he was craving. It was close, he could feel it — a dark, ugly spot was rapidly blooming in his Master’s soul, and his breathing was becoming irregular.

_Give me an order to back away. Admit your defeat. Give up._

Nonetheless, the boy remained silent. His body was shaking slightly, his heart beating deafeningly, but he refused to say a word.

He couldn’t be seriously considering playing along?

“I’ll be going,” Sebastian uttered slowly, and the boy glared silently but said nothing.

That hateful feeling of unsettledness returned, breathing fuel into his smouldering annoyance. Sebastian waited, refusing to move until he had the boy’s answer, but when it arrived, he suddenly wished he hadn’t heard it, after all.

“I will do my best to please you, Count Lyndon.” His Master glanced at him coldly, his voice challenging, and Sebastian almost made a step back, stunned. “You were leaving, weren’t you? Master?”

He couldn’t mean it. Would he actually agree to stay with this man alone, for an unidentifiable amount of time? The boy who had panicked when he saw the spilled wine today, who woke up screaming and flung his arms around Sebastian’s neck so pathetically, in a desperate attempt to find comfort? 

Comfort that he clearly hadn’t found, but it was another matter entirely.

To Sebastian’s turmoil, his Master looked more and more confident by the moment. His eye was full of darkness and spite that Sebastian was helplessly drawn to, but there was also deadly determination there — determination he couldn’t fight.

So he left, hoping that the boy would change his mind but not expecting it any longer.

The moment the door behind him closed, Sebastian jumped onto the roof and stretched against its surface, listening to the sounds within the house intently.

What a confounding and unpredictable creature his lord was. If Sebastian had suspected that his plan would fail, he would have hardly attempted to implement it. The idea of leaving the boy alone with Lyndon turned his stomach, filing his mouth with a thick bitter taste that was downright unpalatable, and Sebastian swallowed, trying to get rid of it.

He could hear the short conversation his Master had with the murderer before he was left alone. A quiet, jerky sound of footsteps — the boy must have stumbled towards a bed or an armchair. A sigh, then another one, louder and wetter.

He was obviously fighting to control himself. So much strength and dignity in such a small human being... what a perfect, flawless soul.

Sebastian closed his eyes, focusing on the scent of the boy’s emotions. His fingers curled around the Phantomhive rings that were still in his possession and he squeezed them, briefly envisioning their history and the string of owners who passed them to one another, until both rings started to belong to his Master. The last of the Phantomhives. 

His distaste faded slowly, growing into powerful, obsessive curiosity.

Would his lord be able to pass the test completely? What would he do if Lyndon proceeded in his advances?

This was quite an intriguing game, he thought, to see whose resolve would waver first. Would the boy call for him or would Sebastian feel compelled to interfere before any order was given?

When he reopened his eyes, he knew they were burning bright red.

 

 

***

 

 

“You wouldn’t mind if I sat next to you, would you?” Lyndon purred, and Sebastian had to struggle to stay put.

It seemed like he was going to lose this game, after all. This hideous day kept rewarding him with one revelation after another, and the new one disclosed the undeniable fact that his Master was more stubborn than Sebastian himself.

The idea that any human could surpass him in anything, be that cruelty or stubbornness, seemed absurd, but Sebastian wasn’t in the mood to lie to himself.

The enthralling boy would rather die than lose in any game, even the one he hadn’t started. And wasn’t it what pulled Sebastian in from the start? His fierce, grim determination, his vicious thirst for victory? 

 He would have gladly let the game go further, raising the stakes — the problem was, even the thought of Lyndon touching the boy infuriated him.

The boy’s panic smelled sharp and pungent, but no words escaped his lips as Lyndon moved to take the place next to him. Sebastian couldn’t see what was happening, but he could hear how his Master’s heart started accelerating to a worrying degree, pounding harder and harder, and his patience snapped.

In a flash, Sebastian shifted within the house, grabbing Lyndon by his throat and flinging him across the room. Vaguely, he sensed that he had taken his true form partly, and he wondered when it happened. Back when he jumped into the house or when he saw Lyndon in the dangerous proximity to the boy?

The boy himself was still panting, his skin abnormally white and glistening faintly with sweat. Upon seeing Sebastian, he shuddered and relaxed, dragging his feet on the couch and curling into a small ball.

This was the display of weakness Sebastian had been craving, but strangely, it brought him neither pleasure nor triumph. His Master had proven himself entirely today, once again, intensifying Sebastian’s hunger for his soul twofold. Despite his nightmares, despite the memories that attempted to break his core, he kept overcoming them all. Sebastian could only imagine what a stunning man Ciel Phantomhive would have become one day if he hadn’t signed his death certificate, gifting him with a right to kill him.

Kneeling, Sebastian took the boy’s hand in his, briefly shutting his eyes in pleasure at the contact. His Master’s skin was cold and wet from terror, and Sebastian wanted to lick all traces of sweat off him, to feel his essence in his belly, an appetiser before the luxurious meal that was waiting for him in the future.

“Your rings, Master,” he murmured, gently putting them on the boy’s slim fingers, where they rightfully belonged.

His Master looked like he was about to pass out, but he still managed to question him coldly, burning him with his gaze, spitting fire and defiance even though he was barely holding on. When he finally said, “Break every bone in his body. Don’t leave even one whole,” Sebastian’s heart swelled with delight and admiration.

Rather enjoying this new sensation, he kissed the boy’s hand, inhaling its scent, before pulling away and promising, “Yes, my lord.”

Breaking bones of any creature was pleasing, but toying with a man like Lyndon was particularly satisfying. Sebastian was careful to snap the smallest bones first, smiling when Lyndon’s pleas and moans turned into unending, hysterical screams. When he moved to larger ones, he turned back to the coach to make sure that his Master was enjoying the show, and to his astonishment, he found the boy sleeping.

How could anyone possibly fall asleep to such racket? Wasn’t the boy haunted by the nightmares — how could he find the screaming of someone being tortured to death comforting enough to relax so entirely?

More than that, Sebastian could see a small smile on the boy’s lips. A smile that fascinated him more than anything else that happened today.

Lyndon jerked beneath his feet, trying to move away, and Sebastian stepped on him.

“Where do you think you are crawling, Count?” he asked lazily. “We are not finished yet.”

Lyndon wheezed, staring at him in blind horror, and Sebastian increased the pressure, breaking the collarbone.

Without his Master’s attention, toying with this insect quickly became rather bland.

 

 

***

 

 

With Lyndon’s case closed, they all returned to the manor, but it seemed that the boy’s intensified nightmares had followed him. He screamed every night, but unless he called his name, Sebastian refused to come and wake him. He had already tried to offer comfort and was rejected, so until he devised a new plan, he wasn’t going to assist without an order.

Still, the longer the nightmares continued, the more tempting the idea to come up with a solution seemed. Sebastian found himself thinking about it during various points of the day, studying the supposedly helpful literature in his free time. To his annoyance, unless he was willing to drug the boy, there was no advice offered, which brought him back to where he was from the start.

A good butler couldn’t give up so easily, though. He didn’t deserve to be called a servant of the Phantomhives if he couldn’t help his Master sleep peacefully.

The back caress he had seen his Master administer when dealing with Finnie had worked to a point, albeit not entirely. However, since it was the most effective tool Sebastian knew of, he decided to focus on it.

He spent the next days watching the servants, wondering if their interactions with each other would turn out to be helpful. They were idiotic enough to get themselves into trouble every hour but they always remained cheerful, no matter how harshly Sebastian reprimanded them.

Soon, he decided to focus his efforts on Mey-Rin. Bard got sullen or angry, not upset, while Finnie broke down crying and ruined half of the manor in his hysterics, making everyone stay away from him. Mey-Rin was the only one who listened to Sebastian’s diminishing remarks and was moderately upset about them. Her attempts to please him were partly entwined with a scent of desire for him, which presented a perfect opportunity. A few more stress-filled weeks and she would break down, and since she didn’t cause destruction on the scale of Finnie, either he or Bard was bound to comfort her.

Satisfied with his choice, Sebastian doubled his efforts. He would give Mey-Rin an encouraging smile, watching how she blushed, and then he changed his attitude abruptly, stalking her around the house and criticising every move she made.     

After a week, when the boy’s nightmares decreased sharply, Sebastian finally got what he wanted. After another harsh remark, Mey-Rin cried right in front of him and Bard, and in front of Young Master who hid himself under the table with a cookie, clearly hoping that Sebastian couldn’t sense him.

Foolish child. Sebastian would recognise his scent and his heartbeat even if there were miles separating them. 

When Bard hastened to Mey-Rin and wrapped one of his hands around her shoulders, Sebastian stared at him attentively, watching every slide and stroke. It all took no longer than fifteen seconds and Mey-Rin seemed to calm down immediately, sending Bard a grateful smile.

That was it? Three main movements.

Sebastian replayed them in his mind several times, trying to determine what was particularly comforting in such a simple combination. He hadn’t found an answer but in the end, it didn’t matter.

He knew what to do.

Now he just had to assist his Master in getting a nightmare.

 

 

***

 

 

Creating an illusion with smoke was laughably easy. Sebastian blended in with one of the corners of the room, watching curiously how his Master tried to control his panic, backing away and breathing in and out slowly. Recalling how his other Masters reacted to illusions Sebastian had created for them, the yells and the begging, Sebastian felt his lips quirk in a smile.   

Only his lord could demonstrate such stunning restraint in the face of a disaster. The only times when he lost control was in his dreams, and Sebastian fully intended to change that. He would not tolerate any weakness in someone he was serving, not again.

As he had planned, the nightmare came this very night. His Master didn’t scream, but his soft gasps and the violent pounding of his heart could be heard even on the other side of the house.

Grinning, Sebastian let his panic grow before finally entering the room.

The boy didn’t notice him even though he was no longer asleep. Breathing hard, he was sitting on the bed, his eyes closed, and Sebastian touched his back gently with one hand, pressing the other against his hair and sliding it down to his neck, squeezing it just like he’d seen Bard do.

The effect was instantaneous — all tension bled out of the boy’s body and he leaned into him, accepting his touches. Then he looked up, blue eyes wide and startled, and alarmingly, Sebastian’s heart skipped a bit.

What was it? Another physical process of humans he wasn’t aware of?   

A shadow of uncertainty flickered in his Master’s eyes but he said nothing, not moving away, as his heart began to calm. Satisfied, Sebastian repeated his motions, feeling how they soothed the tremors that were still running through the boy’s body.

Humans were indeed easy to control, even such uncommon ones as his Master. A few strokes, and the nightmares were forgotten.

A swell of smugness formed in Sebastian’s chest, making his smile widen.

He should have tried this technique months ago.

The boy was very still in his arms. Sebastian patted him again, a warm, lazy swirl of condescension filling him at his success, but the next second, a strange sound tore from his Master’s chest.

Frowning in puzzlement, Sebastian stared at his face, trying to categorise this sound, but the boy repeated it, and after a moment, an astonished realisation came.

His Master was giggling. Giggling like Lady Elisabeth, giggling like Madam Red and Mey-Rin on occasion.

Was this a side effect? But Mey-Rin hadn’t had a similar reaction. The sound of his Master’s giggling was considerably more compelling than that of others, but it was still highly out of character for him. This wasn’t normal.

The boy’s shoulders shook more visibly and then he began to laugh, falling on the bed and trying to mute the sounds by covering his mouth.

Sebastian didn’t have sufficient knowledge about all human peculiarities but he did know when he was being laughed at.

This wasn’t a side effect. The boy was laughing for a specific reason — laughing at _him_. As if Sebastian had done something that warranted such mirth and mockery.

An outrage hissed in him and Sebastian stiffened, narrowing his eyes warningly.

“I’m glad you’re feeling well again, Master,” he growled. The boy tried to look serious for a second and even opened his mouth to say something, but only more laughter tore from his lips, making him pull his feet towards his chest helplessly.

Thin threads of darkness began to separate from his body, attempting to reach the boy and strangle him, and Sebastian pushed them back with an effort.

“Is something wrong with you again?” he acquired, his voice brimming with tension. “Should I bring you anything?”

“No,” the boy gasped. “Just leave. I’m going to sleep now.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly and hastened to escape before his true form came to the surface entirely.

What an arrogant, spoilt child! Sebastian rarely let anyone’s opinion of him affect him, but his lord seemed to possess a unique ability to make him feel deficient. He rarely reacted in the ways Sebastian expected, confounding him at every turn. He had done everything exactly the way Baldroy had done it and the boy seemed to react positively at first. What changed afterwards?

Snarling, Sebastian let his nails lengthen into claws, plunging them into the couch and shredding it angrily.

He had never displeased his Masters before. He served all of them dutifully until the moment he didn’t. Yes, he twisted and even abused their orders; unless perfect obedience was initially stipulated, he turned their lives into hell, making some of them beg him to kill them. But when he fulfilled his direct duties, his performance was flawless. No one had ever complained. 

No one but his current Master.

Sebastian stared at the torn piece of furniture and his mood soured further. In a second, he replaced the coach with its perfect copy, and the sight soothed his anger a bit.   

His Master was entirely uncommon, that much was true. And disregarding the reasons, Sebastian had made him laugh, which was an achievement by itself.

The boy had truly laughed only twice: when Sebastian had been running beside his horse, hoping to soften his miscalculation, and today. Even though this second time, he laughed at him, it still meant something. And while annoyance was still pulsing through him, colouring his vision in occasional splashes of red, Sebastian couldn’t help but admit that he liked the sound of his Master’s laughter, perhaps exactly due to its rarity. It was clear, piercing, and refreshing, and earning it was almost as difficult as finding a suitable solution for his nightmares.

Comforted by the thought, Sebastian headed towards the kitchen, bringing the boy’s laughter to memory over and over again.

If he’d managed to achieve this, then he was still a good butler. And once he determined how to address his lord’s nightmares without being laughed at, he would be a perfect one.

 

 

***

 

 

It appeared that his little lord wasn’t capable of living long without engaging in one of their games. Since they had no guests who required special treatment and no criminals to eliminate, he decided to devise an actual board game and fill it with his deadly traps. 

Sebastian found the idea intriguing.

Having finished cutting the bits of old newspapers, he joined his Master in preparing the board, his mind rapidly sorting through multiple possibilities. The task turned out to be even more engaging than he’d believed, so in the end, it wasn’t surprising that he’d missed the boy’s curfew.

“Those pieces of paper you’ve cut,” his Master murmured sleepily. “I bet you’ve made at least one mistake in measurements.”  

Sebastian sighed, glad that the boy’s state didn’t let him see his irritation. Why did this child have to be so insistent on finding a flaw within him?

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“I don’t think that. I know. Check them yourself, right now. It’s an order.”

Well, who was he to refuse?

Immediately after leaving the bedroom, Sebastian returned to the living room, stopping at the pile of small pieces of paper he’d been cutting for over an hour.

0.7 inches long and 0.4 inches wide. A simple task that required nothing but a perfect sense of measurement.

Pointing it out to his Master tomorrow would be overwhelmingly satisfying.

He focused on his work, carefully reassessing each of pieces. There were about forty of them left when his eyes fell on the next bit… and widened in disbelief.

0.7 inches long, like needed. And 0.5 inches wide.

No. That wasn’t possible.

Sebastian checked again, all the while knowing that it was senseless as his eyes couldn’t lie to him.

Why had they lied as he was cutting them, then? He’d completed more than a thousand of them perfectly, but he had somehow butchered one? And how could his Master know?

Deeply resentful, Sebastian rolled the flawed piece into a vengeful ball and threw it into the fire. Then he replaced it with a newly cut perfect one.

His Master didn’t need to be informed of everything.

 

 

***

 

 

Devising the end for the game was challenging in a way Sebastian hadn’t been prepared for. He lingered for almost half an hour, considering various scenarios, wondering if he should depict the ending he himself was imagining for his Master and himself, masking it as a part of the game half-heartedly. Would that be too bold? Would it anger his Master, make him seethe with rage, or would it terrify him, covering Sebastian in a blanket of that delicious, raw smell?

How many options. How many intriguing concepts.

Today, Sebastian preferred the three of them. The first one entailed piercing the boy’s stomach with his claw, thinly, so thinly and swiftly that he wouldn’t even understand what’s happening. The pain wouldn’t come right away — it would be a wave, unhurried but intense, making his Master’s movements sluggish and uncoordinated until he collapsed on the floor under its force. Bleeding internally, dying and staring at him with his wide blue eyes, horrified and suffering… and when his heart would be giving its last, chaotic thumps, Sebastian would finally approach, forcing him to his feet despite his pained gasps and extracting his trembling soul slowly.

He could also stay with the boy after their contract ended for a while, lulling him into a sense of false security. His Master would be relieved even if he tried to hide it, growing more hopeful every day, and Sebastian would still attend to every need of his with utmost attentiveness. He would also begin to put poison into his food every morning, watching carefully for the effects to become visible. Slowly, perhaps painfully so, the boy’s body would start failing him, and with his allergies, these effects would be far more distinctive. He was smart, so he would understand what’s going on sooner or later, but even if he tried to escape, Sebastian would follow. The hope would die every day, replaced with despair and hopelessness, and Sebastian would remain by his side till the very end, absorbing his Master’s fading strength as he fought for every breath.

Poisons, especially of a demon kind, were vicious. He could have almost a whole year with the boy after their contract, watching him fade away, vomiting blood and turning into weakened, suffocating cripple whose relentless pride would be broken to nothing, who would beg Sebastian to kill him.

Poisons were good for other things, too. A special kind of it was Sebastian’s third option, and it fascinated him most. With its help, he would be able to affect the body of his Master from within. He would confine him to a small place and he would focus on his brain, destroying one cell after another, turning a bright, sharp mind into a ruin. This was something he had never done before, which made this option especially inspiring. Would the boy understand what was happening to him? What would his face reflect? How bitter would his soul become, what kind of spices would it be enhanced with?

“How much longer are you planning to stare at the board and do nothing?” his Master’s annoyed voice startled Sebastian out of his reverie. Bowing his head apologetically, he focused on the blank space again.

On second thought, he didn’t want to spoil the fun before the time came. No, he would draw something neutral, something promising. Like a carriage full of dead people, prepared to be whisked into hell.

That would be fitting because even after having his wish come to life, his lord was going to lose.

 

 

***

 

 

Going to Lord Randall’s residence at night was mildly entertaining. The man spluttered and raged, sending him scandalised glares, but Sebastian withstood all that with a smile, waiting until his Master’s letter was read. Then he left, smirking at Sir Commissioner’s incessant curses and trying to imagine what his Master could have written to warrant such reaction.

He realised that something was wrong the moment he stepped into the manor. Based on his heartbeat, Young Master was still awake, and there was someone else in the room with him. His seal didn’t burn, though, so Sebastian was more perplexed than concerned. A quick scanning of the house showed that Bard was missing from the servants’ wing of the house, so he had to be the one to keep the boy company.

What possessed him to do that? Sebastian certainly hadn’t left any orders of this kind. And if his Master needed something, couldn’t he have simply waited for his return?

Frowning, Sebastian moved to the room, listening attentively. Bard was blabbing about his military experience, describing the way he’d tricked his superior, as if it was something so relevant that it had to be shared with the boy when he was supposed to be sleeping.

Had his lord had a nightmare?

Raising his hand, Sebastian was prepared to knock when his Master’s laughter, quiet and genuine, broke through the room, freezing him on the spot.

For a moment, his ears filled with this rare sound, absorbing it greedily. Then the understanding that he hadn’t been the one to evoke it settled and redness flared behind his eyelids, sending his heart skittering.

Sebastian slammed the door open before he could comprehend the abruptness of his action, and his eyes immediately flickered towards Bard, who was sitting on his Master’s bed, so at ease, as if he belonged here.

His breathing turned unusually harsh and shallow, his hands curling into fists, and all these incomprehensible reactions were so alarming that Sebastian forcefully shut them all down, stilling his malfunctioning human body.

Bard jumped up belatedly in a laughable attempt to defend his Master, pausing and then saying something, and Sebastian stared at him, sensing how a white-hot shock of rage, possessive and volatile, surged through him.

“Bard,” he said finally, knowing that the hissing of the darkness touched his voice despite his attempt to speak calmly. “Leave. Now.”

Instead of following his order, the insipid human backed away, stepping closer to his Master, and Sebastian narrowed his eyes, feeling how despite his attempts at control, his body tensed, readying itself for one, deadly jump.

“Sure,” Bard stammered finally. He stepped away from the boy and a part of tension left Sebastian unexpectedly, even though the anger remained. “Have a good night, Master. Sebastian.”

Bard shivered as he passed him, throwing a quick, confused glance in his direction, but Sebastian didn’t look at him any longer. His world narrowed to the boy sitting on his bed, staring at him in astonished incredulity, as if he wasn’t sure what had gotten into him.

Sebastian wasn’t sure himself.

He began to approach, knowing that his control was still close to snapping, and the boy had the audacity to ask, “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, my lord,” Sebastian replied, forcing his lips to stretch in a smile. His Master flinched, as if he found the sight scary, and rage spiralled up again, filling him with a vindictive impulse to grab the boy by the hair and throw him across the room, hard enough to break all those fragile-looking bones.

 The boy’s laughter was his, be that the laughter he’d earned or the laughter denoting his mistake. The right to stay by his side when he had nightmares also belonged to him, and he wouldn’t tolerate anyone else interfering, not even the boy himself.

Smoothening the bed to remove all possible traces of Bard, Sebastian straightened, the smile still glued to his face. The knots of darkness were unfolding, sliding towards the boy, not strong enough to gain a shape that a human eye could recognise but lethal nonetheless, and Sebastian knew that if he didn’t leave the room right now, he would do something he would later regret.

“Another nightmare, Young Master?” he asked conversationally. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “I’ll bring you some hot milk. You shouldn’t be awake at this hour.”

The boy’s lost, hesitant face made the lividness within him snarl, and Sebastian turned from him abruptly, walking towards the door.

Rage burned through him as he was preparing the milk. It growled and swirled as he returned to the room, watching his lord drink his offering.

He had followed Bard’s example back in London and he was laughed at. He had spent months on trying to find a solution. How could someone who didn’t know the boy at all succeed where he failed? Was he supposed to tell ridiculous jokes now?

A thin ray of warmth split the darkness in Sebastian’s mind only when his Master fell asleep, not saying a word about the fact that he remained by his side without being ordered to. Sebastian watched him, slowly regaining his sense of peace, and after three and a half hours, he smiled, much calmer.

‘ _I will kill you,_ ’ he thought gently, his eyes not leaving his Master’s face. ‘ _I will be the last thing you’ll see._ ’

Hopefully, all confusing reactions would stop with the boy’s heart.

 

 

***

 

 

 

In the morning, both the boy and Sebastian pretended that nothing had happened. Bard was the only one who threw wary glances at him, and considering that neither Mey-Rin nor Finnie risked approaching him, Bard had obviously shared some of what he’d witnessed at night. All servants looked like Sebastian was going to start yelling at them any moment, and while amusing to a degree, it was mostly frustrating.

As if he ever needed to raise his voice to instil fear and inspire obedience.

 

“Mr. Damian?” his Master said thoughtfully, staring at the letter.

“Yes. He is the owner of a Poseidon Company — we have signed a short-term contract with him, enabling him to manufacture stuffed animals for Funtom Corporation.”

“I remember,” the boy set him an annoyed glance. “Is what this letter says true? He is in the process of selling off the company?”

“He is indeed. And after receiving the reports on his operations, I believe we can expect him to pay us a visit and attempt to obtain more money before disappearing without the trace.”

“Well, if he does that, he _will_ disappear without the trace,” the boy put the letter away, scowling at it. “We will have to find a new associate. Can you check the backstories and pick a reliable one?”

“Is this a question?” Sebastian raised his eyebrow and smirked, getting another annoyed glare in response.

“No,” his Master said shortly. “It’s an order. I want this person found by the end of the week.”

“Consider it done,” Sebastian bowed, his head already filling with possible options.

A part of him hoped that Mr. Damian would try to seek out his Master. It’d been a while since they’d had the last game and Sebastian looked forward to dedicating a day to the implementation of an elaborate trap. His Master liked to devise detailed scenarios of torment, and being who he was, Sebastian enjoyed bringing them to life.

The boy had quite an imagination.

 

 

***

 

 

Mr. Damian showed the utmost discourtesy by announcing his intention to visit the Phantomhives on the day he was supposed to arrive. Disgruntled at the lost opportunity to prepare everything meticulously, Sebastian went to wake his Young Master, wondering if he already had a plan, but to his surprise, entertaining Mr. Damian seemed the last thing on the boy’s mind.

Ignoring the feeling of being taken aback had become an integral part of him by now. Smiling as if he hadn’t expected anything but for the boy to drink his tea, Sebastian turned to leave, only to have a dart thrown at him.

That was new.

Catching it, he lingered for a moment, trying to figure out what it meant. Another test? Or an invitation to play darts?

“How was that?” Sebastian inquired, glancing at his Master with a strange but already familiar fondness. Perhaps this was a hint as to what his lord was planning for Mr. Damian? Turning him into a target for darts?

“Let us leave the fun and games for later, shall we?” he added. The boy just looked at him, grave and vaguely displeased as always, but…

“Yes,” he allowed. “I agree, Sebastian.”

At last.

The boy _was_ planning something.

 

The answer came two and a half hours before Mr. Damian was due to arrive. After requesting a dessert and being denied, and issuing a perplexing order to take down the Phantomhives’ portrait, his Master finally turned to face him with a small, eerie smile, startlingly similar to the one Sebastian himself often wore.

“So,” he drawled, “I was thinking to make today’s game into an actual game.”

“Darts?” Sebastian guessed, but his lord just frowned.

“Why would you think that?” he asked. “No. I meant the game you and I created. Mr. Damian is going to choose his own fate based on the movements he’ll make. I’ll be playing against him. You’ll be listening.”

Unsurprisingly, excitement shone inside him with intensity, and Sebastian felt how his lips parted in an anticipatory grin. The boy’s smile also widened and they shared a moment of quiet, gleeful amusement.

“Understood,” Sebastian said. “Shall I kill him at the end?”

A small crease marred his Master’s forehead.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Fraud is a mediocre crime and I’m still not sure of his intentions. Ultimately, it’s going to depend on how much he annoys me during our meeting.”

Sebastian bowed his head, hiding another smile.

He hoped his Master would be extremely annoyed.

How intriguing this day was turning out to be.

 

 

***

 

 

“Lose your legs in the Forest of Confusion,” his Master announced, and Sebastian committed it to memory, his mind flaring with vivid ideas.

Mr. Damian gasped, the odour of his confusion and anxiety creeping through the several floors at once.

“It’s your turn again,” his Master’s voice sounded so genuine and innocent that if Sebastian hadn’t known him, he would buy into this performance, forming an entirely wrong opinion of the boy. “I’m out for a turn, after all.”

Mr. Damian, of course, couldn’t boast of the same. The odour weakened, changing into relief, though his anxiety remained partly, and when he laughed, it sounded tense and unnatural.

Understandable. Mr. Damian was wary of the boy despite the smugness and contempt he clearly felt for him. Young Master had been playing a psychological game on him for over an hour now — he shifted between abrupt and attentive, harsh and carefree, dismissive and interested, and Sebastian could sense how their guest was slowly losing his patience, growing angrier and disturbed by the minute. 

“Your body is burned within the crimson flames,” his Master murmured, quietly and thoughtfully, and Sebastian grinned, pleased that the scenario he had drawn himself was going to be used today. Mr. Damian’s gasp sounded louder this time and the smell intensified anew as his anxiety grew into irrational fear — fear of the boy he was playing against.    

It was perfect, it _had_ to be perfect, but one thing stopped Sebastian from enjoying every second of this game.

His Master was upset by something. While he tormented Mr. Damian skilfully, he seemed distracted at times, his thoughts elsewhere, in the places Sebastian couldn’t hope to reach.

The inability to understand the boy’s thinking process was intolerable and more fascinating than all the mysteries Hell hid in its depths. He was rarely in an agreeable mood but the degrees of his general dissatisfaction varied, and Sebastian could only guess what it depended on. The nightmares? The cases or the lack of them? What was happening in his head now, what caused his sour mood today?

And this mood certainly wouldn’t improve after he saw the ruined garden and the meal Sebastian was going to serve.

Sighing, Sebastian glanced in the direction where his Master was and then moved towards the kitchen.

He had to control what the servants were doing. They had already ruined a meal — Sebastian couldn’t let them destroy it entirely.

 

 

***

 

 

His Master showed admirable restraint when he saw the garden. Nothing at all was reflected on his face — he proceeded to take his place, holding his head high, though he did send Sebastian a livid glare when Mr. Damian wasn’t looking.

“Tonight’s dinner is a Beef Tataki-don prepared by our own chef, Bard,” Sebastian introduced and grimaced internally at the shocked gaping of both Mr. Damian and his Master. He was fairly sure that he would win their guest over — several persuasive lies, and he would accept everything told to him in a desperate attempt to be considered a part of the sophisticated society.

His Master, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. No sweet lies would persuade him that this Japanese dish was a worthy dinner for English noblemen.    

“Is this dinner?” Mr. Damian stared as if he was being offered poison and with his peripheral vision, Sebastian noticed how his lord stiffened, insulted. Then he began to eat, using chopsticks so masterfully, like he had a vast experience with them and like he was served this very meal weekly.

 Quickly masking his surprise, Sebastian focused on Mr. Damian and then on Mey-Rin, but his thoughts stayed on his Master unwaveringly.

He had no doubts that the boy was displeased with his presentation of a meal and yet he chose to pretend that everything was fine as long as they had a guest, even if the opinion of said guest meant nothing, considering the end that was waiting for him.

His Master demonstrated quite a fascinating sense of solidarity with his staff. Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder how far it could go.

When Mey-Rin’s hand slipped and she began to pour the wine onto the tablecloth, Sebastian thought that he was going to get an answer to his question sooner than he’d expected. He watched, feeling unusually tired, but the sharp inhale from his Master, the way his body froze sent sparks of adrenaline through his veins, breaking him from his immovability.

Of course. The spilled wine. They had gone through the exact replica of this scene recently, during Lyndon’s case, and the boy reacted painfully, like he did during his nightmares. Sebastian could only guess what he was seeing — drawing comparison between the wine and the blood? The place where they had met had a ritual table covered with it. Was this what his mind conjured?

How humanly weak. But at the same time, Sebastian couldn’t let the scene repeat itself — as a butler, he had to make sure that his Master looked his best.

In a flash, moving so quickly that no human could notice, Sebastian snatched the stained tablecloth from the surface, careful so the glasses and the plates remained untouched. Mr. Damian continued to devour the meal greedily, not even seeing the changes that had occurred, but Young Master relaxed palpably. A moment, and he resumed eating, the stupor dissipating as suddenly as it had appeared.

“He really is talented,” Mr. Damian noticed approvingly.

“He only did what was natural as my servant,” the boy dismissed. He sounded cordial but Sebastian caught a shadow of tension in his voice. Was he relieved that the disaster had been averted or angry that Sebastian had almost let it happen?

He could always assess his lord’s mood by using an expression that tended to both amuse and infuriate him.

“It is as my Master says,” Sebastian agreed. “I am merely one hell of a butler.”

The boy did react, turning to look at him, but his expression remained unreadable.

Well. Not much of an answer.

The dinner continued, though the darkness surrounding the table began to thicken, and interestingly, it was coming not from Sebastian but from the boy himself.

At some point, when Sebastian was smoothening the napkin, small fingers snaked around his wrist and tapped against it. At first he frowned in confusion, but a second later, he recognised the rhythm of the tapping.

The silent language he and his Master had developed a while ago, after their first case. The language no one in the universe knew but them.

‘ _Have you heard everything?_ ’   

Carefully, Sebastian bent down, pretending to adjust the plate, and touched the boy’s knee.

‘ _I have, my lord. Everything is already planned_.’

‘ _Good._ ’

Mr. Damian noticed nothing.

The clock continued to tick away the remaining measures of his life.

 

 

***

 

 

Like Sebastian had expected, his Master didn’t appreciate the Italian tea. His grim mood continued to grow, and a small, cold smile touched his lips only as he said, “Be diligent until the end, as befits the hospitality of the Phantomhive family.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sebastian swore. His eyes flared in hungry anticipation but faded back when his Master’s face darkened again as he immersed himself into some distant thoughts.

What was wrong with him? Was it connected to his demand to have the portrait of his family taken down? The game was boring when the boy’s attention wasn’t focused wholly on it.

He had to spice things up.

“Would you like a bet, Young Master?” Sebastian offered, and was satisfied to see a return of light into the blue eye.

“A bet? What kind of it?”

“Whether Mr. Damian is going to survive what will be done to him.”

The boy frowned.

“You’re going to burn him, aren’t you? How could he possibly survive it?”

“Ah, but burning can be done in many different ways.” The boy shivered and Sebastian smiled wider. “However,” he added, “in our case, he might indeed die. I was thinking about the oven.”

“The oven!” his Master’s jaw dropped in a quite unappealing way. “What do you think he is, a pie? He’s not going to die if you lock him in an oven!”

“I’m saying he will. So, do you accept the bet?”

The boy studied him suspiciously, probably trying to imagine the ways in which Sebastian could be trying to trick him. Silly child, didn’t he know that being locked in an oven could be as deadly as being directly set on fire? He clearly had no idea about the temperature there.

“I accept,” the boy said finally. “The head of the Phantomhive estate cannot back down from a challenge. However, I have a condition. He has to be alive and capable of leaving the manor by himself after you’re done with him.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to think. Leave it to his Master to complicate the already complicated plans.

Then again, this was what made the game all the more exciting.

“Agreed,” he uttered slyly. “If I win and he dies on his way to the nearest carriage, you will help me bury him.”

“What?!”

“Of course, you’re always free to refuse to participate.”

“No,” the boy snapped immediately, and Sebastian’s lips twitched. “You are on. But no cheating and no twisting my condition. It’s an order.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And if I win?”

“Naturally, I will bury Mr. Damian myself.”

Huffing, his Master rolled his eye.

“That’s hardly a prize,” he said. “No. If he lives, you won’t kill him — let him tell the underworld about what happens to those who cross me. As for you… you will tell me your true name.”

Shock seized his stomach, twisting it in a curious, testing way. Sebastian stared, temporarily incapacitated, as his brain scrambled to make sense of this request. How could the child possibly be this audacious? Demons did not give away their true names, not for anything in the world. The power and intimacy it presupposed was startling and no one in their right mind would enter a bargain like this.

His Master caught on his hesitation and his eye flashed in triumph.

“Of course, you’re always free to refuse to participate,” he mocked, and Sebastian clenched his jaw tightly.

It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t lose.

“No,” he replied, trying to sound calm. Then he mimicked, “You’re on.”

A slow, cunning smirk was what he got in response.

 

 

***

 

 

With their bet, Sebastian lost half of interest in Mr. Damian’s torture. What he was fixated on was his direct demise that had to happen outside of the house.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t enjoying the torment itself, though. Creating an illusion and placing his Master’s voice over it was amusing, and seeing how their guest’s face crumbled in horror and blind panic was almost as delicious as his screams that shook the walls when Sebastian twisted his leg in the opposite direction. 

The servants didn’t follow Mr. Damian — perhaps even they understood that a game of some kind was ongoing.

The brainless creature had facilitated Sebastian’s task significantly by readily falling for a trap and crawling into an oven willingly, even being as courteous as closing the door behind himself.

Well, then, all he had to do now was control the time and the temperature.

 

Mr. Damian was let out when a bigger part of his body was burned. He limped to the door as quickly as he could, panting and wheezing, his eyes almost white from shock and pain, but as he reached the park, he began to slow down. A few more minutes, and his body would give away entirely; a few more hours, if he was lucky, and he would be dead.

Mr. Damian yelled, desperately and loudly, and his yell was followed by Young Master’s satisfied laughter. Sebastian’s mouth quirked upwards.     

‘ _Give it time, my lord,_ ’ he thought wryly. ‘ _It’s not long now._ ’

 

 

***

 

 

Their guest died at half past midnight, between the trees in the park surrounding the Phantomhives’ manor. Feeling the delectable satisfaction brewing in his blood, Sebastian entered his Master’s bedroom and approached his bed, squeezing his shoulder slightly.   

Normally, he wouldn’t have interrupted the boy’s sleep, but he supposed it could be counted as an extraordinary circumstance.

“My lord,” Sebastian called deceptively sweetly. “Wake up.”

“Sebastian?” the boy blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong? What time is it?”

“Half past midnight. I’m afraid Mr. Damian has just died outside the manor and now I require your assistance.”

His Master stared at him in confusion before the realisation sank in and he started shaking his head in childish denial.

“It can’t be,” he moaned. “He was alive! I heard him scream!”

“It was then,” Sebastian shrugged, trying to keep his expression blank, even though a strange tickling sensation slid under his ribs, pushing laughter up his throat. “Now he’s dead. People rarely survive burns of that kind, especially if they are not treated.”

“You cooked him in the oven!” his Master nearly shrieked. “How could he get deadly burns from it?”

“My lord, I will gladly demonstrate it on you. If you agree to get into the oven—”

As he thought, his Master’s eyes flashed before narrowing to dangerous slits.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “You have a contract to fulfil.”

“So do you. I trust you remember the conditions of our bet?”

Growling, Young Master threw the blanket off and stood up, glaring at him.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Dress me and let’s go.”

 

 

***

 

 

All Sebastian’s predictions came to life with absolute accuracy.

His Master didn’t react to the sight of the burned body much — his noise twitched, a somewhat haunted look entered his eyes, but it was all gone in an instant.

His Master also hated digging. By the fifth minute, he was breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead, his clothes stained beyond salvation. It was a good thing that Sebastian had picked the least expensive outfit or he would be forced to subject the boy to a visit to a tailor.

In addition, his Master didn’t make a sound of protest after they left the manor. He admitted his defeat with dignity and was honestly completing his part of the bargain.

None of his previous Masters would have done the same.

Sebastian watched fondly as the hole in the ground got deeper and as his lord continued to dig even though his hands were already shaking from exertion. 

A pathetically weak body but a stunning strength of spirit. A combination as unique as the boy’s soul was, so dark and so light simultaneously, compelling in its contradictory nature.

“You said I had to help you bury him, not do everything by myself,” the boy finally uttered, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve. “Don’t just stand there.”

“If you insist,” Sebastian agreed and his Master snorted.

“I do not _insist_. If you didn’t want to do any work, you had to mention it in your conditions.”

“Fair enough. Although perhaps this experience will show you that burying an adult is a daunting task.”

 “You’re a demon! Don’t tell me you have difficulties with digging a grave!”

“I might, at least when you forbid me to use my powers.”

Sebastian realised that this sounded like a complaint and an admission of his imperfection too late — the boy was already gaping at him in disbelief.

“You are still strong!” he exclaimed. “Or do you lack the appropriate human skills? I can always organise a practice session with the Undertaker for you.”

Sebastian blinked, surprised at the suggestion, before laughing quietly.

“Thank you but I believe I will manage myself,” he said.

For a while, they were silent, digging together. When the grave got deep enough, Sebastian asked, “Would you prefer to carry him by the legs or by the hands?”

His Master’s face scrunched up in disgust but once again, he did not complain.   

“By the legs,” he replied belatedly and approached the body, looking at its ruined shoes.

“You wish to avoid seeing his face up close?” Sebastian wondered, squeezing the burnt hands and waiting for the boy to grab the legs.

“I don’t particularly care,” his Master said, wrinkling his nose but taking the body by the ankles obediently. “I don’t like the eyes of the dead, though.”

This admission was surprisingly open for someone as reserved as Ciel Phantomhive, so Sebastian had to lower his head to hide his bemused expression.

Then again, the boy was always far more honest at nights.

Maybe he could use it to his advantage.

When Mr. Damian disappeared under the pile of dirt, his Young Master sighed tiredly but his eyes looked oddly satisfied.

“I want to mark this grave,” he muttered. “Bring me a stone. The bigger, the better.”

Sebastian nodded and went in search of a suitable rock. When he brought one back and planted it in the middle, his Master touched its surface lovingly, a grim smirk still reflected on his lips.    

“Maybe we should create an engraving later,” he added. “Something inconspicuous.”

“You are positively bloodthirsty today,” Sebastian drawled, responding with an equally sinister smile. “Fine. But that would be tomorrow. Right now, it is time for you to take a bath and go to sleep.”

“I _was_ sleeping,” the boy pointed out. “You woke me up.”

“I won’t wake you up again this night. That I can promise as your devoted butler.”

The boy snorted rudely but didn’t say anything. By the time they returned to the manor, his eyelids were already drooping, so Sebastian had to hold him during the bath so he wouldn’t fall down and embarrass himself.

When his Master finally got into bed, he fell asleep immediately. Sebastian covered him with a blanket, adjusted his pillow… and froze.

Someone was observing him. Someone who had no business being here — the same stalker he had already sensed several times. He’d done nothing before, but the intruder had crossed all boundaries by entering Sebastian’s direct territory.

It was time for a friendly talk.

Sebastian left the room unhurriedly, as if he hadn’t noticed anything, but as soon as the door closed, he dashed outside, towards one of trees.

His source of annoyance was indeed standing there, on one of the branches, studying the darkened windows of the house. Sebastian crashed into him viciously, knocking him on the ground, then throwing him against another tree. His guest fell and hissed angrily, his golden eyes flashing red.

“Leraje,” Sebastian greeted coldly, watching how the demon got to his feet, flinging dirt off his green jacket. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“You noticed me, then?” Leraje’s lips twisted in an ugly, condescending grin. “Finally. I was beginning to wonder if your intuition is gone… _Sebastian Michaelis_. Picking this name for yourself — do you think this is funny?”

“My Master picked my first name. I only came up with the last one.”

“You always turn everything into a joke,” Leraje spat, narrowing his eyes in clear distaste. “You sicken me. Someone like you doesn’t deserve your position.”

Sebastian laughed lowly.

“Were you stalking me to tell me that?” he asked dryly. “You could have come up with a new wording, at least.”

“I didn’t come for that.”

“Then why? What do you want?”

Leraje said nothing and Sebastian’s eyebrows rose.

“I can sense that you currently have a Master,” he noted. “And yet you dedicate your time to watching me. There is also something strange about your contract — it is only half formed.”

“My Master doesn’t have a wish yet,” Leraje replied, looking at him with intensity that Sebastian found atypical.

“You entered a contract with someone who doesn’t have a wish?” he sneered. “Such soul cannot be of a high quality.”

“You are concerned with quality now? Although seeing how many efforts you’re investing into your current contract, I’m not surprised. I’ve watched you for a while now. Enough to say that you’re being unnatural.”

Sebastian had never particularly minded Leraje’s amusing attempts to insult him, but this made him stiffen. Undoubtedly sensing it, Leraje’s lips split in a contemptuous smirk.

“You are turning into a lapdog,” he said. “You are embarrassing yourself and us, by association.”

“You will never be in a position to tell me how to behave myself,” Sebastian noted mildly, though the darkness in him swirled, itching to attack Leraje and to finally silence him after all the centuries of petty arguments and jealous attacks.

Leraje had quite a respectable position himself but his envy towards those of higher ranks had never let him enjoy his existence. He spent all his time either in search of ancient artefacts or by bothering others, always striving to reaffirm his status. He and Sebastian clashed more times than Sebastian could count and usually, he regarded these encounters as entertaining. He had complex relationships with the majority of demons; few were on friendly terms with him but he always commanded respect. No one but Leraje was bold enough to bother him so steadily, and Leraje himself was hardly a serious opponent. 

Now, though, Sebastian wasn’t sure what to think. Leraje was looking at him like he knew something he didn’t, and the sneer on his face appeared far more malicious and intense than usually.

“We’ll see,” Leraje said finally.

“What do you want?” Sebastian repeated, annoyed now. “Shouldn’t you help your Master figure out their wish? Why are you wasting time on stalking me?”

“Oh, my Master is going to find his wish soon, have no doubts about that,” Leraje promised darkly. “As for why I am here… it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business when you step into my territory. This area belongs to my Master. I am tasked with removing the intruders and right now, you are one of them.”

“I have no interest in your Master.”

“That would be a first,” Sebastian drawled mockingly. “You always wish for things that don’t belong to you.”

“And you are always breaking the rules. I have seen you with your Master and I have seen your Master. He keeps your feather. You keep his tooth. Revolting, the both of you.”

A sense of unease settled, spreading an uncharacteristic anxiety through Sebastian’s body and making the lines of his darkness combine, forming into his true shape.

A feather? Leraje had to have been watching them for longer than Sebastian had thought. How could he have not noticed?

“Well,” he said, trying to sound calm, even though hostility inside him flared with new force, “we all have our peculiarities when we’re contracted. You collect trophies as well, don’t you?”

“I do,” Leraje agreed, “but I suspect that our reasoning differs. Regardless, I don’t intend to discuss it with you. I’ve seen and heard everything I needed. Be assured, I won’t enter _your_ territory again. Not in the nearest future, anyway.”

Sebastian bared his teeth, but before he could do anything, Leraje soared high into the air with a derisive laugh, blending with the darkness.

Well. That was… unsettling.

Sebastian shook off the traces of his true form, waited until the sensation of foreign presence disappeared entirely, and returned to the house.

Leraje had never been a worthy opponent. Sebastian sincerely doubted it was about to change.

And yet, a dark foreboding had already taken roots, and no matter how hard Sebastian tried, he couldn’t dislodge them.        

 


	12. A Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So sorry for such a long wait between the chapters, I was absolutely flooded with work. Now I have a semi-vacation for about 4 months, so I hope to write a lot during this time. Thank you for all your mind-blowing support, I appreciate it so much! Time for a chapter with E2 events - hope you'll enjoy it! :)
> 
> *Warning*: with the content of E2, there is some child physical abuse and rape threats.

Sebastian was watching him with dark, inscrutable eyes. Anyone else would have said that there was nothing but deference there, but Ciel knew better. He’d learned how to read every reddish flash of emotions, every tiny wrinkle or crease that Sebastian’s unnaturally flawless face reflected. And he could say confidently that right now, Sebastian was planning something. Again. Something aimed to provoke a reaction from him.

It would have been amusing if Ciel had any idea of what this plan might entail and what prompted Sebastian to start planning in the first place. Then again, when _wasn’t_ this demon planning something? Even just to spite him — _especially_ to spite him.

“Keep the key with you,” Ciel ordered coldly, narrowing his eyes when Sebastian only glanced at it with disinterest. Strange. Their new case clearly didn’t stir any curiosity in him. Ciel, on the other hand, found it quite thrilling. It was the third visit Lord Randall had paid him this month, and seeing how much it cost him to even talk to him, let alone ask for favours, filled Ciel with tingling pleasure.

Smuggling and drugs again, only this time, a much bigger scheme was at play. There was a rat among the Evil Noblemen themselves, one that desperately wanted access to the storehouse of drugs Sebastian had intercepted a few days ago. Ciel was holding a key to it currently, and Lord Randall had asked him to keep it until the rat was found. Since he’d asked so prettily, who was Ciel to refuse?

He thought Sebastian would be interested in establishing the rat’s identity, but it seemed like he was already preoccupied with something.

This couldn’t be good.

Finally, Sebastian accepted the key, murmuring meaningless words of agreement with his order, and Ciel watched him silently for a while, trying to understand what was on his mind.

Some of Sebastian’s games were thrilling, he couldn’t deny it. Some… not so much. For whatever reason, he had a distinct feeling that this one was going to fall into the latter category.

“The supper is ready, Master,” Sebastian purred. “Would you like to eat it here or in the dining room?”

Ciel frowned, taken aback. What was it with Sebastian and his meal-schedule obsession?

“In the dining room,” he decided. “I’ve spent too much here today as it is.”

“As you wish. Everything will be served in a minute,” Sebastian bowed and left the office, and Ciel followed him with his gaze, the wheels in his brain turning rapidly in an attempt to figure out what was happening.   

Still nothing.

Sighing, he stood up and slowly walked out as well.

He didn’t have time for Sebastian’s ridiculousness right now.

He had a rat to catch.

 

 

***

 

 

Three hours later, lying in his bed, Ciel regretted not having paid enough attention.

He felt terrible. His stomach was rolling in discomfort, sending wave after wave of chilling coldness through his body, and if it wasn’t bad enough, nausea was twisting it into a tight, painful knot. He couldn’t stop shivering.

He’d been ill enough times to recognise how it felt, and whatever was happening to him now wasn’t it.

Which left only one option.

“Sebastian,” Ciel hissed. Even one word threatened to push nausea over the edge, and he had to take several deep breaths to keep it down. “Come… here. Now.”

A few moments later, Sebastian opened the door, cautiously peering inside.

“Young Master?” he asked. Ciel glowered at him, clenching the blanket tighter around himself. He couldn’t speak, not right now, not if he wanted to avoid vomiting. Thankfully, Sebastian seemed to finally sense that something was wrong because he quickly approached his bed, frowning. Ciel’s eyes immediately bored into his face, seeking anything incriminating, but Sebastian appeared genuinely puzzled.    

“You have a fever,” he concluded, his frown deepening. “But there was no chance for you to catch a cold. You’ve barely left the house this past week.”

Did this idiot think fever only appeared as the result of the cold?

“You did something,” Ciel spat and gritted his teeth when another intense wave of queasiness crawled up his throat, even more insistently this time.

If he hadn’t been staring at Sebastian so intently, he might have missed a flash of recognition on his face, but as it was, he caught everything.

That bastard! He _had_ done something. He must have tempered with his food. But why? It seemed purposeless and it was a direct contradiction to their contract.

“Did you poison me?” Ciel pushed out, furious. “You!..”

“I didn’t,” Sebastian denied, but he sounded almost uncertain. Ciel didn’t say anything, only glared, and Sebastian’s expression turned sour. “I did add a medicine into your tea,” he admitted. Ciel’s eyes widened incredulously, but before he could find words, Sebastian continued. “It was a calming draught. Lau recommended it as an effective method to fight against bad dreams.”

For a second, Ciel was so enraged that he thought he would explode with it. He clenched his fists so hard that he nearly broke his fingers, trembling with a barely suppressed need for violence. Yelling wouldn’t help — no, it would have to come later. Right now, he needed something else. Something, _anything_ to pay Sebastian back in whatever limited capacity he could currently afford.

Another pang of nausea made him grimace, and then a childishly vindictive idea came into his mind.

Sebastian wanted to cure him from the nightmares? Let him enjoy the results.

Grinning viciously, Ciel leaned forward and let go, and vomit burst through, spilling all over Sebastian’s trousers and boots.

Relief came immediately, sharpened by the way Sebastian’s face went blank. He stood still for a while, resembling a statue, and Ciel smirked at him, though fury continued to boil his insides.

“Clean this up,” he whispered. “And change your clothes. You reek.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to stare at him incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his audacity. His jaw tightened, but in the end, he nodded sharply.

When he left, Ciel pushed against his pillow, trying to breathe through his nose. The nausea returned, and with it, his fury at Sebastian flared even brighter.

He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that Sebastian had shared something this personal and disgustingly weak about him with Lau or that he’d decided to slip him some unknown sleeping draught, following the recommendation of an opium-addicted fool!

Why was Sebastian so obsessed with his sick nightmare-based experiments? If it went any further, Ciel would have to come up with an order that would stop him from ever doing anything related to his dreams. Ciel had decided against it before — he wasn’t sure why, exactly. Maybe a part of him hoped that Sebastian would succeed at some point. Maybe he just cowardly craved his presence every time he woke up terrified, and giving an order would likely stop Sebastian from even coming to his room at night.

But this… this couldn’t go on. It was too much.     

Sebastian returned quickly, removing all stains from the floor. Before he could say anything, though, Ciel leaned forward again, succumbing to another wave of nausea.

Sebastian looked positively murderous.

This was going to be a long night.

 

 

***

 

 

After the third instance of vomiting, even the brief echoes of humour left Ciel. Whatever remained in his stomach continued roiling. Sometimes, it became uncomfortably taut, making his throat contract again, and by the time the clock struck one o’clock, he was already exhausted.

Sebastian played the role of a butler well, probably compensating for his earlier idiocy. He cleaned him, pushed a bucket to him whenever he sensed another round of vomiting, and kept stupid questions to a minimum.

After the fourth time, Ciel felt so weak that he could barely sit. His mouth tasted disgusting and was excruciatingly dry, and his temples kept pulsing with white-hot pain.

 “If I die because you’ve poisoned me,” he murmured, “I forbid you to eat my soul. You absolutely don’t deserve it.”

“You won’t die from this, you silly child,” Sebastian sounded mocking, but despite his state, Ciel could hear the same note of uncertainty in his voice.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what was wrong. And naturally, he couldn’t know what the outcome of his scheme was going to be.

Ciel still hissed at the insult, wishing he could reply properly.

He hated feeling helpless. He _hated_ it.

He had lived through illnesses and severe allergies both, and every time, even though the symptoms were familiar, there was a feeling of dread hiding in the most vulnerable part of his mind. Whenever he found himself confined to a bed, he worried that he would never leave it again. The fear of death was so overwhelming at times that all he could do was blink away the tears, hoping that his mother and Madam Red didn’t catch it.

Now, to his surprise, he felt no fear, even though the situation was decidedly and dangerously unfamiliar. There were only resentment and disappointment.

Entering a contract with a demon to die because of his failure to understand how human bodies worked? It was insulting. It was unacceptable.

Ciel gathered enough strength to send another angry glare to Sebastian. To his surprise, Sebastian looked almost worried. His brows were furrowed and he kept staring at him unblinkingly, as if trying to dissect him with his gaze and understand what was wrong.

“I will send Tanaka to you,” he said suddenly, and it was Ciel’s turn to frown.

“No,” he snapped. He didn’t want to see anyone else, not when he was feeling so terrible, so weak.

“It’s only for a short while,” Sebastian adjusted the blanket, wrapping it more tightly around Ciel. “I believe I should pay a visit to Lau.”

“In the middle of the night?”

Sebastian shrugged.      

“He gave me that… thing,” he said, his lips twitching in contempt. “He must know its side-effects.”

Ciel didn’t want to admit it but it made sense. Why hadn’t he thought about it sooner?

“Fine,” he allowed. “You can go. But don’t send anyone else to me. I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian hesitated.

“Young Master—” he began.

“Shut up,” Ciel warned. “You don’t have the right to question my orders. I’ve had enough of your disobedience. Falling so lowly, taking advice from a human? Betraying personal matters of your Master to outsiders? I’m tempted to break the contract with you right now, and I will if you ever do something like this again.”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed, turning terrifyingly red for a moment. When he spoke, coldness was etched in his every word.

“If you do that, you won’t attain your revenge. And it won’t save your life.”

“Is that an euphemism for ‘I’ll kill you’? Please,” Ciel scoffed, even though his heart skipped a mournful beat. “As if I didn't know that already. But keep abusing my trust like this and it won’t matter to me. I don’t forgive betrayal, Sebastian. I don’t care what motivated you — you had no right to do that. Repeat this mistake and making _you_ pay might come to seem more satisfying to me than fulfilling my initial wish. Do you understand?”  

Sebastian considered him carefully, his face unreadable again. Then he bowed his head slightly.

“I do, Master,” he said. “May I take my leave now?”

“You may.”

Sebastian gave him one last glance, and Ciel almost gaped at the obsessive hunger he suddenly glimpsed there. Irritation, boredom, and indifference were gone, replaced by something so dark and primal that he shivered.

Tightening his hold on the blanket, Ciel pulled it closer defensively, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian in a challenge, even though he knew he had nothing to back it up.

Fortunately, Sebastian bowed again and slid towards the door, melting in the darkness immediately.

 The fire that had brought him through this conversation abruptly died out and Ciel focused on breathing evenly again.

At least when he was talking to Sebastian, it served as a distraction. Now, he was alone with unwelcome thoughts, and nausea was starting to crawl in his stomach again.

He felt dizzy. His head was still splitting apart and his skin felt so dry, as if it would wither at the slightest touch.

If anything, he felt much worse than at the beginning. What in the world was Lau’s drug made of?

 

Ciel didn’t know how much time had passed. He must have managed to fall asleep because he was startled back into reality by a cool piece of fabric placed against his forehead.

“Sebastian?” he muttered weakly.

“Yes,” Sebastian carefully smoothened the fabric. Then his cold fingers brushed against Ciel’s cheek and Ciel closed his eyes involuntarily, enjoying the comfort it brought.

Next moment, the fingers were gone, and instead a glass was pressed to his lips.

“You have to drink, Young Master,” Sebastian said quietly. “I’ve been informed that you might have dehydration after losing so much liquid.”

Ciel winced when a fresh wave of pain rolled through him, but he still sat up and accepted the glass.

“What did Lau say?” he mumbled. Sebastian watched how he drank the water intently before taking the glass from him and putting it on a bedside table.

“He said such reaction is extremely rare but possible,” he acknowledged finally. “You should feel better by morning. Until then, you have to drink as much water as you can. I’ll stay by your side, of course.”

“Joy,” Ciel drawled. He doubted he would be able to speak more than one word without vomiting.

 

The night was endless. He managed to drift off for half an hour at most until an intense stomach spasm woke him up, making him groan and reach for the bucket. Sebastian kept hovering over him, and the more time passed, the more liberties he allowed himself.

At first, he did only as much as was needed, but eventually, he seemed to start finding some twisted enjoyment in taking care of him. He began brushing Ciel’s hair from his face attentively, letting wet, sweaty strands slip through his fingers again and again, as if he was drying them. His other hand kept reaching for Ciel’s forehead, checking his temperature, and he constantly leaned closer, breaking into his personal space.

If it wasn’t for a small, sinister smile on his face, Ciel would have been suspicious. Since it was present, though, he could guess what motivated Sebastian to display such caring behaviour.

He was undoubtedly taking pleasure from how awfully Ciel felt and how he was forced to depend on him. Every time he moved closer, his smile widened, his eyes became gently indulgent, and Ciel just knew he was breathing in the smell of his fever, finding it delicious.

Sick bastard. But strangely, this combination of contrasting emotions put Ciel at ease. He accepted both comfort and deadly intent Sebastian showered him with, hating himself for the peace it brought him, but in the pauses between vomiting and drinking water, he pushed out as many degrading comments as he could think of.

“Tanaka performed his butler responsibilities much better than you,” he hissed. “You are incompetent. You bring more harm than value. Did you poison all your masters?”       

“Even when you are so unwell, you still have the strength to insult me,” Sebastian remarked almost fondly, pushing a glass back into his hands. Ciel accepted it, but his thoughts were already elsewhere.

He was going to seek retribution. And oh, how sweet it was going to be.

He already had some ideas.

 

 

***

 

 

Fever and nausea left in the morning, just like Lau had promised. Ciel finally got the chance to sleep, and when he woke up, it was already two in the afternoon.

Soon, he was sitting in his office, composing four very specific letters.

His yesterday’s brainstorming, no matter how brief it was, had brought extremely satisfying results. Only a limited number of Evil Noblemen knew about that specific storage, and even surface analysis clearly pointed at two possible candidatures. 

Azzurro Vanel or Baron Diedrich.

Personally, Ciel considered the former to be a far likelier option, but he couldn’t cross Diedrich off his list simply because the man was a friend of his predecessor. Ciel had never had close personal contacts with him, so he was yet to form an opinion. Nevertheless, it was clear that both Vanel and Diedrich had an opportunity to cover their participation in the drug trade.

In the last months, Ciel and Sebastian had secretly investigated the majority of Evil Noblemen, and Vanel along with Diedrich were among the small group that they had failed to find much on. All their operations seemed perfectly legal and this in itself was suspicious. Besides, Vanel and Diedrich were the only ones in this group who stayed in the country within the last month, so only they could be involved.

Now, all Ciel had to do was wait until they wandered inside the trap and close it, and for this, he needed to invite them to the manor.

Of course, writing to them alone would be too revealing, so he also prepared a letter for Lau. Another one was for Randall. After all, finding a rat was his request, and having him witness how easily Ciel could succeed where he failed was too pleasing of a chance to miss it.

There was a knock on the door, swiftly followed by Sebastian entering the room, pushing a trolley with his dinner forward.

Ciel measured him with a cool look. Then he eyed the food, not letting any of his thoughts touch his face.

“How are you feeling, Master?” Sebastian inquired, so arrogantly confident that it immediately sent sparks of anger through him. Ciel didn’t reply. His head was still aching dully, but he definitely wasn’t going to accept any medicine for it.

“Bring Bard to my office,” he ordered. Sebastian’s eyebrows rose in a sign of controlled surprise, but he nodded and left.

Did this treacherous creature truly think that his yesterday’s transgression would remain unpunished? As if Ciel could ever be this lenient.

The food smelled delicious but he stubbornly refused to glance at it. He didn’t doubt that it would taste incredible — too bad it would have to remain uneaten.

Sebastian returned soon with Bard, who looked wary and guilty. Had he managed to blow up something again already?

“Afternoon, Master,” he mumbled. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Ciel straightened, focusing on Bard entirely and ignoring Sebastian. “I would like you to be responsible for cooking from now on. Breakfast. Dinner. Supper. I can rely on you in this, can’t I?”

“Of course!” All hesitancy poured out of Bard and he grinned enthusiastically. “I won’t let you down, Master. I bet you’ll be impressed.”

“Hardly,” Sebastian said coldly, and Bard glared at him, clearly affronted.

“Hey! Just because I don’t know all your fancy recipes doesn’t mean I can’t cook! For your information—”

“Leave,” Sebastian said, and while his voice was perfectly pleasant this time, his face was anything but.

Bard backed away almost unconsciously before remembering himself. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to Ciel.

“Go,” Ciel allowed, satisfied that he’d managed to keep the amusement out of his words. “Start preparing dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Bard saluted him before rushing out of the room, probably already thinking about what to cook. Sebastian didn’t deem it worthy to watch it — he stared at Ciel instead, and he looked so quietly livid that it felt even better than the reprieve from vomiting.  

“Would you honestly entrust the preparation of your meals to Baldroy?” Sebastian asked icily. “I assure you, Young Master, his skills have not improved since the last time.”

“At least I can be sure that he won’t be trying to poison me,” Ciel drawled with great relish. Sebastian’s mouth fell open in an obvious surprise before he snapped it back shut, and Ciel gave him a brief, condescending smile. “Did you think I would accept the food you’ve prepared again?”

“I was—”

“Disloyal,” Ciel cut him off. “I told you, I don’t care about your reasoning. You betrayed me when I specifically asked you to never do that. So until you prove that you can be trusted at least in some capacity, I won’t be using your direct services. Go find something useful to do. Oh, and take _this_ away from me,” Ciel nodded at the deliciously smelling plates still standing on the trolley. “Needless to say, I won’t be eating it.”

The aura Sebastian was emanating became even frostier while his eyes flashed a familiar, deadly red. Ciel drank it in, pleased with how easily he could find the most effective punishment. Since being viewed as imperfect infuriated Sebastian, not having a chance to prove himself had to result in an even more intensive rage.

Sebastian didn’t move for a while, fixated on him as if he was torn between wanting to throttle and to consume him — or to do everything at once. Then he smiled slowly, his fury dissipating, replaced by his usual arrogance.

“Certainly, Young Master,” he uttered. “I hope Bard’s cooking will be to your taste.”

Ciel returned his cold gaze, saying nothing.

If Sebastian thought he was going to win here, he was deeply mistaken.

This was only stage one.

 

 

***

 

 

The second stage came later in the afternoon, when all letters were finished.  Ciel nodded at Sebastian to gather them and said shortly, “Send them all.”

Sebastian complied, studying the names swiftly.

“Evil Noblemen?” he inquired. “Have you decided on the rat’s identity, then?”

Ciel had been hoping for this question.

“None of your business,” he informed calmly. “I’m going to see this case through by myself. I told you, I don’t need assistance of someone I can’t trust.”

Sebastian downright gaped at him. He obviously didn’t think Ciel would refuse his participation in the investigation — what, had he believed his punishment would be limited to being prohibited from cooking meals? Not this time.

“With all respect, Master, you won’t be able to solve this case by yourself,” Sebastian finally said, sneering. “There are too many intricacies of the drug trade. Even the smallest mistake can lead to your death.”

“Are you done?”

Sebastian almost hissed, and the first shadows flickered across the room. Ciel leaned back against his chair, deeply amused.

“Oh, and while we’re at it,” he added, “I want you to give the key from the storehouse to Lau. He can keep it until I need it.”

The room became even darker. Sebastian’s hands twitched, as if he was one step away from wrapping them around Ciel’s throat, and despite the palpable danger that filled the air, Ciel hadn’t felt this entertained in ages.

Sebastian was so easy to play at times. And yes, he was right — since Ciel would have to play a live-bait, his life would be in danger. He did hope that the servants or even Lau would notice the attempt on his safety on time, but even if they didn’t, he had a back-up plan in place.

He would have to depend on Sebastian, but the good thing was, despite everything, Sebastian was still bound by the contract. As long as he remained interested in it, he would fulfil his basic obligations.

And Ciel would find a way to twist it to suit his agenda.

 

 

***

 

 

After Sebastian left with the letters, there wasn’t much left to do. His head continued to pound unpleasantly and until this case was finished, Ciel wasn’t going to accept another one.

He didn’t know why, but his feet brought him outside, to the Phantomhives burial ground. He hadn’t been there for a long time and he couldn’t say what possessed him to go there now. However, his hesitancy evaporated when he realised that there was already someone else there.

Madam Red was easy to recognise, with her bright, all-red outfit. She was standing near the grave of Vincent Phantomhive, unmoving and strangely sombre. Seeing her so grim was a rare thing, so Ciel wavered for a second, unsure of what to say.

“Madam,” he finally uttered. His aunt’s back stiffened. She turned to look at him, and for a second, something ugly brimmed in her eyes. Before Ciel could determine what it was, though, a wide smile split her face.

“Nephew!” Madam Red rushed forward and Ciel tried hard not to recoil when she grabbed him, pulling him to her chest in an affectionate embrace. “I apologise for intruding like this. I know I should have warned about my visit but…”

“You are always welcome here,” Ciel lied, smiling stiffly. When she finally let him go, he immediately made a small step back, putting distance between them. “Would you like to have supper?”

Madam Red hesitated but then nodded.

“I would love to,” she muttered softly.

They returned to the house and were immediately greeted by a loud, crashing noise from the kitchen.

Bard.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, Ciel led his aunt to the living room and went to investigate. To his surprise, Sebastian was already there, observing the damage with cool, derisive expression.

“I’m afraid your meal is going to be late, Master,” he drawled. Ciel shrugged, pretending to be unconcerned.

“I shall wait,” he announced. “The only thing that matters is that Bard’s meal will be actually safe for eating.”

“If you think so,” Sebastian replied, but his face became sour and Ciel had to hide a content smirk.

“I do have a task for you,” he said. “Madam Red has joined us for today. You’ll be cooking a supper for her as well as for our guests who are likely to arrive tomorrow. I trust it you won’t poison them, too?”

Sebastian’s hands twitched again. Something feral flashed in his eyes, and Ciel was half-prepared to be thrown against the wall and bashed against it repeatedly.

In the end, Sebastian only inclined his head.

“Yes, my lord,” he said.

It sounded like a threat.

 

 

***

 

 

Letting Madam Red meet Lau was one of Ciel’s biggest mistakes. Lau arrived next morning, just in time for breakfast, and as soon as they saw each other, they clicked to the point where tearing them apart became nearly impossible.

“Solving a case without me!” Madam Red exclaimed. “Why, nephew, I might be able to help you!”

“I don’t need your help,” Ciel said through gritted teeth. Oh, how much he regretted inviting this woman to his house. She was going to spoil everything.

“The more, the merrier, isn’t it?” Lau asked, smiling serenely. “What do you think, Ran-Mao?”

“I will definitely be present at your meeting,” Madam Red said confidently. “We’ll find your rat. I have an eye for such things.”

“And what an eye it is,” Lau drawled appreciatively. The room shook at the sound of Madam Red’s flustered laughter and Ciel rubbed his eye, hoping that when he opened it again, he would find himself alone.

Fortunately, his aunt could never handle sitting for a long time, so soon enough, she grabbed Lau and dragged him to the library, to show him the Phantomhives’ Chinese literature collection. Ciel waited until all sounds went mute and finally allowed himself to relax, loosening his grip on the cup of the most disgusting tea in his life. How could Bard fail even in such a simple task? What was difficult about making tea?

“Master,” Sebastian’s purring voice came right from behind his back, and to Ciel’s annoyance, he wasn’t even startled. His mind had long since started associating Sebastian with something inherent and omnipresent, so his attempts to take him aback with his unexpected appearances didn’t work.

“Is there something you need?” he asked curtly. Sebastian moved in his area of focus and offered him a tray with something. A tea set? Why would…

Oh.

“You’ve found a Haviland set,” Ciel commented contemplatively. In blue, gold, and white, just as he’d asked. How had Sebastian managed that? Ciel was positively sure that this colour combination didn’t exist. He’d been anticipating for Sebastian to admit defeat, but it seemed he’d somehow completed the task.

Why now? Did it have any connection to their current state of affairs?

Ciel had always been sure that Sebastian despised having to take care of him, but yesterday had shown that he hated not being allowed to do it even more. He appeared personally offended at the dish Bard had cooked for supper last night, glowering in the corner of the dining room. Naturally, Ciel made sure to finish every bit of it, even though the taste of the overcooked fish was haunting him all night, threatening another round of nausea.

That brought him to a question — was Sebastian hoping to appease him? Bringing the long-awaited Haviland tea set after more than a month of nothing… he must have searched for it during the night with a renewed vigour. Definitely too drastic of a measure for it to mean nothing, and all the more strange since yesterday, Sebastian hadn’t seemed to be in an appeasing mood.

“Good,” Ciel acknowledged. He couldn’t stop himself from grimacing, though, especially when Sebastian’s face lit up with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Would you like some tea in it?” he asked, steadily ignoring the fact that technically, Ciel was already holding this very drink in his hand.

Ciel deliberated. He had no intention of cancelling Sebastian’s punishment, but he would have to start easing it a bit. Living on Bard’s cooking wasn’t sustainable, not in the long run, and asking Tanaka to cook wouldn’t be appropriate.

“Fine,” he uttered at last. “But be quick. I still have things to do.”

Sebastian looked genuinely pleased. Bowing and practically radiating smugness, he left the dining room, and when the door closed, Ciel snorted quietly.

Who would have thought that a demon would find joy in getting a chance to make tea? It was laughable, how easily Sebastian fell into the trap of their contract.

Ciel would have to monitor his own behaviour carefully to make sure he didn’t do the same. He might be holding the reins of control right now but he knew, he just _knew_ that it could change any moment.

Sebastian had a disturbing tendency to leave him speechless, and not in a good way. With an active case that he had to solve, having an unpredictable demon-butler who alternated between wanting to crush him and hoping to gain his approval was dangerous.

He would have to stay on guard. 

 

 

***

 

 

Solving the mystery of a rat was easy. Disappointingly so.

Azzurro Vanel revealed himself as soon as Ciel casually mentioned the drug trade and the fact that he was hoping for his, Lau’s, and Baron Diedrich’s help in identifying the traitor. Vanel’s head snapped up, his eyes widened, and Ciel could groan with how obvious and ungraceful he was.

This man didn’t deserve to be in the league of Evil Noblemen. What services could he possible provide to the Queen?

 Baron Diedrich, on the contrary, barely reacted to the news. He seemed much more interested in consuming the sandwiches Sebastian had brought, but Ciel still studied him from time to time, only partly focused on the pool table.

“Not surprising,” Madam Red was saying. “The morals are quickly becoming a thing of the past. Even family members betray each other, so having a rat among one’s own kind is nothing unexpected.”

 Her cheerfulness was gone, replaced with a mask of coldness and a mysterious half-smile. She looked so unusually collected that Ciel couldn’t help but admire her.

He’d never thought that she could act like this. Darkness seemed to come to her naturally and she easily stirred conversation to the topic Ciel was invested in. He hated to admit it but he had been wrong. Madam Red could blend in perfectly, even in the company of criminals.

The game and the talks continued, and Ciel watched with a growing feeling of curiosity. Yes, Vanel was almost definitely the rat he was looking for, but could he truly discard Diedrich? The man shared strange, unrefined mannerisms with Vanel. Unlike the latter, he seemed genuine, but Ciel had been in the underworld long enough to not rely on the first impressions.

Could they be working together? That would make the game much more interesting.

A pleasant, refreshing sensation tickled his mind at the thought and he smiled in amusement.

So many possibilities.

“Small talk aside, when will these mice be exterminated?” Lord Randall demanded impatiently, and Ciel raised his eyebrows. If the man was demanding extermination already, then he must have caught up on who Ciel’s main suspect was.

“Any moment now,” he remarked coolly. “The mice will want to sink their teeth into the forbidden cheese. We have the key to the storeroom where it’s hidden.”

Vanel actually gasped at this before quickly focusing on the pool table again.

What a pathetic fool. No, he was too obvious of a choice. His collaboration with Diedrich was looking more and more likely. In fact, Diedrich could be a mastermind behind the whole scheme.

Though for a member of a Ferro family to follow someone’s lead? Then again, Italians could be difficult to predict. Too much of an unknown territory to make hasty conclusions.

Randall continued watching him suspiciously so Ciel leaned against his cue, smiling at him indulgently.

“However,” he drawled, “finding the nest and eliminating the mice might be somewhat tedious. I hope you are prepared to pay the fee for that.”

With how many times Randall had asked for his assistance in the recent months, Ciel had to come up with more creative ideas of payment. Just for the fun of it, last time, he’d asked Randall to get him the books from the Scotland Yard library, and the resulting ten minutes of growls and accusations were music to his ears.  

“You vulture!” Randall, predictably, began to seethe again, and Ciel sighed, torn between feeling annoyed and entertained. Had Randall still not figured out that insulting him would bring him nowhere?

The excitement waned, slowly transforming back into boredom.

The meeting was only partly amusing and it was time to finish the game. In all senses at once.

Vanel or Vanel with Diedrich, it didn’t even matter. One or two of them were undoubtedly the rat, so all that he had to do now was wait for them to make their move.

 

 

***

 

 

Sitting in his office, Ciel basked in the warm glow of self-accomplishment. The day was extremely productive, and even though he’d decided against making a definite choice as to the rat’s identity, he knew that his goal was attained. One way or another, the rat was going to target him soon. He would have to stay in the manor to complicate his, or their, task.

Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, Sebastian was bound to use some excuse to see him. He wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to test the waters and be accepted back in the investigation.

Denying him would make today’s victory even sweeter. 

Echoing his thoughts, there was a knock on the door, and Ciel’s lips trembled in a pleased smile before he forced it to dissipate.

Without waiting for an answer, Sebastian walked inside, holding a tray in his hands.

“Taylor’s Yorkshire Tea,” he presented, making an appropriately deferent expression. “It is a fairly new brand but I thought you might appreciate the richness of its herbal undertones.”   

What could a demon who was incapable of distinguishing between a ruined and perfect dish by taste know about any undertones? Though Sebastian was rarely wrong, Ciel couldn’t deny it. Maybe one day, he’d ask him about it.

He nodded, indicating that he wanted the tea, and Sebastian obediently put a cup in front of him.

Did he really think Ciel could be fooled by his perfect façade at this point?

About a minute passed in silence, with Ciel inhaling the vapour and Sebastian waiting for his reaction. Finally, his intense scrutiny became bothersome, so Ciel acknowledged, “Good.”

Sebastian pressed his hand to his chest, bowing his head — a flawless embodiment of servitude and obedience.

“I’m glad that it pleases you, my lord,” he said. “Would you like a dessert with it? I’ve prepared a chocolate pretzel. Made of three different kinds of chocolate and drizzled with salted caramel.”

Ciel peered at the tray almost against his will in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this pretzel, and Sebastian’s face lost some of its fake politeness, reflecting a more genuine amusement.

“It is in the kitchen,” he clarified. “I couldn’t be confident that you would accept it, considering your newfound affinity for Bard’s cooking.”

Ciel rolled his eyes but said nothing. He really, really wanted that dessert. Terminating Sebastian’s punishment, though… 

“All right,” he agreed haughtily. “Bring it to me. I suppose my guests didn’t feel nauseas after your cooking, so maybe it’s safe to start eating the meals you make again.”

A shadow of intense satisfaction crossed Sebastian’s face and he smiled sharply.

“Does it mean that I have your permission to stop Bard from destroying the kitchen?” he wondered, and Ciel’s treacherous lips couldn’t fight against a smile of his own.

He didn’t want to lift the punishment yet but having Bard cook for him was too much. He wasn’t sure he could take it for much longer.

“Yes,” he uttered. “Do that.”

Sebastian stared at his smile in a way that was distinctively strange before making a step towards him, and Ciel immediately frowned.

“Was there anything else?”

Sebastian blinked, and the predatory look disappeared from his face.

“I see the meeting has passed successfully,” he said carefully. “You seem to be in a good mood.” 

“I am.”

“You’ve determined who the rat is, then?”

Ah. So Sebastian was hoping to be engaged in the investigation, too.

This was not something Ciel was going to allow.

“It doesn’t concern you,” he said evenly. “I trust you to start cooking adequately again. It doesn’t mean that I trust you with anything else. I told you that I will solve this case by myself — do you want me to repeat myself?”  

It was almost fascinating, to see how Sebastian’s calmness shattered, replaced by viciousness that Ciel couldn’t even understand properly. Why was being denied participation so offensive to him?

“You won’t be able to apprehend the criminal without my assistance.”

“I don’t need to apprehend him myself. I’ve already solved the riddle and set the trap without your input. The rat will attack me soon and when he does, his identity will be crystal clear.”

“And what do you plan to do during the attack? Protect yourself?” Sebastian’s sneer said everything he thought about this possibility but Ciel remained unmoved.

“I have servants for that,” he noted coldly. “The most important part of the task is already done by me alone. Those who are loyal to me will protect me physically.”

There. This incentive was obvious enough. If Sebastian wanted to prove his loyalty, he had to interfere when the time came. If he allowed his pettiness at being prohibited from more active participation to prevail, then Ciel would make further unsatisfactory conclusions about him.

Sebastian observed him with narrowed eyes, and then a chilling smile touched his lips.

“Of course,” he said. “I wish you the best of luck in this new game.”  

Ciel watched him bow and leave, and suspicions stirred in his mind in alarm, sending a shiver of uncertainty down his spine.

It seemed that Sebastian had somehow managed to enter the game. Only Ciel wasn’t sure in what capacity.

 

 

***

 

 

Grell Sutcliff was the clumsiest fool to ever step into the manor. He was loud, hysterical, and utterly incompetent, to the point where even Bard, Finnie, and Mey-Rin started to look like professionals.

Where in the world his aunt could possibly find this person, Ciel had no idea, but he was too wary to question it. If it happened during some social gathering, he definitely didn’t want to know the details.

He had been willing to change his rather sceptical opinion about Madam Red after yesterday’s meeting but today, he wasn’t so certain. She was particularly shrilly, vulgar, and boisterous, making explicit advances on Lau and even Sebastian. While seeing how Sebastian stilled before acquiring his usual mask of cold politeness could be amusing in other circumstances, this time, Ciel felt insulted, and Madam Red’s senseless excuse only fuelled his anger further.    

It was too much. Way too much.

“Is it true that one of your guests was in the smuggling trade?” Lau asked innocently, and Ciel sighed. Why did this man enjoy pretending to be an idiot? As if he didn’t know the answer already. Ciel had been perfectly clear as to what Lau’s function was supposed to be back in his letter.

“Yes,” he said tiredly. He didn’t have the strength to argue. It was only morning but he was already exhausted because of all this noise.

He couldn’t stand being around other people for so long.

“You should leave the extermination to Rau,” Madam Red advised him, but Ciel barely heard anything after that because at this moment, Lau suddenly approached him, looming, and pressed a hand against the top of his head.

Ciel flinched before he forced himself not to react. Lau had always shown a disturbing penchant for tactility but this was taking it too far. The pressure was strong enough to make him lower his head a bit, and he focused on looking straight ahead, trying to calm himself.

“If it is the Earl’s order,” Lau’s voice became huskier and the pressure got even stronger, “then I shall do the dirty work.”

Ciel had no idea what it meant. Before he could attempt to figure it out, though, his aunt jumped from her seat to grab him into her arms, almost choking him in the process.

“Don’t you dare try to lay a finger on my precious nephew!” she shrieked, and Ciel inhaled sharply. Surely she didn’t imply?..

“Oh, my! There’s no way I’d try to lay a finger on him out _here_ ,” Lau assured her, and this… this was enough.

As soon as Ciel was let go, he hastened to move towards the door.

 Sebastian had already escaped at some point and he couldn’t help but feel resentful at this fact. Then again, they were technically at war with each other and Sebastian only enjoyed putting him in psychologically stressful situations. Of course he wouldn’t have given Ciel an excuse to leave the company of those idiots, leaving him to fend for himself.

 “Young Master?” Sebastian turned his head to him but Ciel ignored him, still overwhelmed and disturbed.   

“Too loud,” he murmured. What was his house being turned into? Such level of noise was unacceptable, just as the reasons that caused it. First Madam Red’s shameless behaviour towards Sebastian… after that display, Ciel wasn’t sure he wanted to have her stay at his house, not if she proceeded to make such a fool of herself. Especially so loudly. He could already feel a familiar sensation of a persistent headache gathering right in the middle of his forehead, one that threatened to grow into a full-blown migraine.  

Then Lau’s dirty insinuations, the way he touched him… Disgusting. All of this was disgusting. He didn’t want to be a part of any of it. 

He sincerely hoped that Lau had been merely talking about work because otherwise… otherwise…

Nausea crawled up, and this time, Sebastian’s cooking had nothing to do with it.

Ciel moved in the direction of his office almost blindly, pressing his hand to his forehead in the hope to neutralise the first licks of pain. Next second, Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finnie stormed right past him, yelling something unintelligibly. Ciel stopped, closing his eyes and just trying to breathe. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was standing like this, lost in the dull mist of half-consciousness, when Sebastian’s voice suddenly broke through, plunging him back to reality, anchoring him, giving him ground.

Ciel still jerked from the unexpectedness of it and immediately turned to face him.

“I have prepared an apple and raisin deep pie for you,” Sebastian told him, and his voice sounded soothing. His eyes, on the other hand… 

They were narrowed. Callous.

Something was going on.

“It has almost finished baking, so please stay with the other guests,” Sebastian added, just as gently. A part of Ciel longed to give into the calming effect his tone was providing, but his rational side was already on alert.

Sebastian’s expression didn’t change. No matter how sweetly he sounded, he was almost brimming with darkly malicious, smug energy, and Ciel frowned, unsure of what he was missing.

“Bring it to my office,” he ordered. Why would Sebastian even ask him to re-join Madam Red and Lau? He evidently wouldn’t do that, not when he’d just escaped from them.

Sebastian’s smile seemed to grow wider at the response, as if he was pleased with it.

Or maybe Ciel was being too paranoid?

“I’ve had enough socialising,” he explained, softer this time.

He needed to get somewhere quiet, somewhere where he would be able to think. Maybe his headache would abate as well.

Ciel walked into his office, closed the door… and then someone’s hand wrapped around his mouth, cutting off his air supply. Ciel’s eyes widened and he thrashed wildly, attempting to break free.

“Be quiet, you brat,” someone growled. “Where is the key?”

How did this man expect him to answer when he was holding his mouth closed?

A few moments passed and it seemed like this idiot finally realised it as well. He let go, turning him around, and Ciel sneered at him.

An intruder. In his office.   

That’s what Sebastian’s strange behaviour was about. He had undoubtedly detected someone’s presence but chose to do nothing. To teach him a lesson, of course, to make him cry out for help, _his_ help.

Well. Ciel hated being predictable.

Let the bastard find him on his own.

“Where is the key?” the man repeated urgently, his eyes wild, as if he honestly expected an answer.

Ciel did the only thing he could. He laughed, and laughed again, derisively this time, when the man’s face contorted in fury.

Then a huge fist collided with his face and the darkness took him.

 

 

***

 

 

When Ciel came to his senses, he was already bound. Actually, he was bound and chained, as if they were worried about him escaping.

Maybe his reputation preceded him.

His head was moaning with pain and something unpleasantly wet was trickling down his nose — blood? It could be somewhat tolerable if a semi-familiar voice didn’t keep babbling on and on.

“Just how many households have you helped, and how many have you crushed, Ciel Phantomhive?” it inquired, and Ciel finally found the strength to raise his head.

Vanel. Alone.

How utterly disappointing.

“So, it was you, after all,” he concluded. “Azzurro Vanel of the Ferro Family.”

He listened to the arrogant response half-heartedly, carefully studying his surroundings.

He was in a room of some manor, that much was clear. Maybe it was Vanel’s headquarters? Two more men were standing near the door, guarding it, and Ciel almost snorted.

They really did worry that he would be able to escape in such condition. Chain, ropes, Vanel, and two guards. It was flattering, he supposed, albeit entirely ridiculous.

“English people always have tea on their minds,” Vanel commented, approaching, and tension immediately flooded him. It retreated only when Vanel lowered himself to his knees, not towering over him any longer. 

“In 68’s Pharmaceutical Affairs Law, even opium is listed as a poison,” Ciel said mechanically. “It is the Queen’s decree, not to allow the spread of drugs or accommodate dealers any further.”

He wasn’t interested in listening to the answer. Vanel would never say anything worthy of consideration — he was a mediocre, self-absorbed worm whose only future entailed getting crushed.

Was Sebastian planning to come after him? If he allowed him to be dragged from the manor, he must be even pettier than Ciel had realised. How much time had passed, anyway?  

Vanel suddenly grabbed him by his face, leaning closer, and all thoughts left his mind for a moment, freeing space for all-consuming, blind panic.

No. No, he wasn’t going to succumb to it. He’d been through much worse. He would not let men like Vanel, who enjoyed physical intimidation, reduce him to a panicked, snivelling mass of nerves and fears.

Focus. He just had to focus.

“If I am not returned,” Ciel said, pleased with how calm he sounded, “my servant has been ordered to take the storehouse’s key to the government.” Vanel was still too unbearably close, so Ciel forced himself to smile. “Sorry,” he added indifferently, “but I have no intention of getting along with some gutter rat.”

As he’d expected, the insult worked. Vanel recoiled from him and jumped back to his feet, pointing the gun at his head.

That was much more preferable. 

“Don’t underestimate us adults, you little brat!” Vanel yelled, and a cool, calming sense of control spread through Ciel’s blood again. Now that the revolting touch was removed from his face, everything sharpened back into clear focus.

“I already have my subordinates lie in wait at your mansion,” Vanel boasted, and Ciel perked up. So, there were still the intruders at the manor? By now, someone had to notice them. Or maybe his idiot demon remembered the half-hinted incentive and realised that he was only succeeding in destroying Ciel’s trust further the longer he waited. 

“Where’s the key?” Vanel asked demandingly. “If you don’t spit it out soon, I’ll start offing your servants one by one.”

This time, Ciel didn’t even have to pretend — his smile was entirely genuine in its condescension.

“It’s so nice when pets do as they’re told,” he drawled. If only Sebastian learned how to actually obey him instead of choosing to follow only those orders that he personally liked. Had he really not understood what Ciel told him during their last conversation on this topic? If he wanted to prove his loyalty, he had to put Ciel’s well-being above any games. But of course, Sebastian ignored the offer. He would probably move to interfere only when he felt that Ciel was in a mortal danger. That treacherous, foolish…

Ciel didn’t have time to finish his thought. Vanel’s boot kicked him in the face violently, and the force of the collision sent Ciel flying. He couldn’t stop himself from gasping in pain. More blood streamed down his cheekbone and he grimaced, annoyed with himself. The hit wasn’t bad enough to warrant any verbal reaction. He would have to stay quiet the next time.

For a while, no one bothered him, so Ciel had time to slowly shake off the dull, throbbing pain and focus on observing the room again. From his position, he couldn’t see what was behind the window. Was he somewhere in London? Probably not. The ceiling was too high, the room too wide, which implied that the building could only be someone’s private manor. Vanel wouldn’t risk setting up such a luxurious headquarters in London, so they must be somewhere in the suburb… or maybe the northern part of East London? It would make sense. Perfect sense, in fact.

The phone suddenly rang and Ciel turned his head slightly in its direction. Vanel caught his gaze, grinning.

“Ready to hear how many of your servants are dead?” he asked. Ciel chortled and was treated to the beautiful sight of Vanel’s face going red with anger.

“Stupid whelp,” he growled. “So sure of yourself. You make me sick.”

He grabbed the phone but before he managed to get even one word out, someone began to talk rapidly. From his position, Ciel couldn’t hear what was said, but Vanel’s reaction was a good indicator.

“Failed?!” he bellowed. “You useless screw-ups! This is why you’re garbage!”

Ciel rolled his eyes and Vanel glared at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, calmer this time. “It’s over. Get back here at once.”

Silence. Some noises that Ciel couldn’t identify.

“What’s wrong?” Vanel mocked. “Did you run into a bear in the forest?”

Ah.

A cooling sense of relief blossomed in his chest and Ciel tried to adjust his posture to a more comfortable one.

So Sebastian finally woke up and decided that it’s time for actions. Took him long enough.

His being late didn’t mean anything in terms of the game — Ciel had still set the trap himself and lured the rat into it. He hadn’t denied that he wouldn’t be able to protect himself physically, so the only reason why Sebastian decided to let him be taken was pettiness. A shallow way of revenge for being refused participation.

Not that Ciel was surprised at his priorities. Sebastian was loyal to himself and his hunger. But for someone who got so annoyed at being distrusted, he sure knew how to make the situation even worse.

Loud screams tore through the phone, and no matter how much Sebastian’s chosen course of actions smarted, Ciel still let himself revel in the realisation that right now, somewhere, people who wanted to hurt him were being hurt in return.

Seeing how Vanel began to stutter, he couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Looks like the game of fetch is over,” Ciel remarked mockingly.  

Maybe it wasn’t very smart. Pure madness engulfed Vanel’s face and he dashed to Ciel’s side, kicking him right in the stomach, knocking all breath out of him. Before Ciel could even blink, he was hit again, this time across his face. Three more violent kicks in the ribs, but this time, he managed to stay silent, biting his lower lip stubbornly.

The world flickered around him, beginning to darken, so he tried to hold on to reality, to listen to what Vanel was doing instead of going with the pain and letting it consume him.

Everything hurt. Breathing was almost impossible, and all Ciel could do was hope that nothing was broken. He wouldn’t be able to cope with another bed imprisonment.

“Hey!” Vanel spat. It sounded like he’d walked back to the table, to the phone. “If you morons don’t respond, I’m going to kill you!”

Even from his place, Ciel could recognise the notes of Sebastian’s voice speaking back. He didn’t hear a word but something in the muffled, barely audible sounds was intensively familiar.

Vanel stayed silent, though his teeth started chattering loudly, while Ciel concentrated on the noises from the phone. They took a light tilt, meaning that Sebastian was asking a question.

Technically, Ciel could call him right now. Sebastian would be able to come much more quickly than through interrogating Vanel’s men, but…

But it would be too easy. Sebastian had _allowed_ him to be kidnapped. Now he had to perform his duties and actually work on getting him back.

A question sounded again and Vanel let out a whimper. What could Sebastian be asking? Was he not sure whether he’d caught the right men?

Of course. He couldn’t know who the rat was, Ciel saw to that.

Well… he supposed he could let him know that he was on the right track, at least. He didn’t even need to talk for that because Sebastian certainly didn’t deserve it.

“Woof,” he grumbled. There was a short moment of silence and then Sebastian spoke again, softer this time.  

Then he was gone.

Vanel stood frozen for some time before suddenly bellowing, “The Phantomhive’s guard dog is on his way here! Guard the walls! Don’t let even a single mouse in! Don’t let anything get through!” 

His panic was delicious and if Ciel’s lips didn’t hurt, he would have smirked.

To his disappointment, Vanel regained some semblance of control over himself pretty soon. He walked to him unhurriedly and Ciel stiffened, wondering if he was going to be beaten again. The more prepared he was, the better chances of staying silent he had.

Vanel sat next to him, grabbing him by his hair tightly.

“You think that your one man will be able to come through my guards?” he hissed. “He’ll get his stomach full of bullets the second he steps into my territory.”

Ciel said nothing and Vanel hissed again, sounding even more infuriated.

“I would love nothing more than to cut your face,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips almost brushing against Ciel’s ear. “But it’d be a waste, wouldn’t it? Even without that storehouse, we have an excellent variety of drugs. Your pretty face will fetch us quite a price and we’ll drug you up well enough to turn you into an obedient little doll.”

Ciel had been prepared for being hit, not for being threatened with… that. A quiet pathetic sound escaped his lips involuntarily as he tried to move away, and Vanel laughed in delight.

“I know just the people who’d be interested in buying you,” he added. “But don’t worry. With the amount of drugs we’ll put in you, you won’t feel a thing with those perverts.” 

Panic stole his ability to see or breathe. Only an urgent, desperate want to cry out Sebastian’s name remained, and Ciel growled, jerking in his ropes, trying to turn panic into rage.

How could he be this weak! These were just words, they were meaningless! Vanel wouldn’t be able to act on his threat, Sebastian would come soon. And even if he failed to find this place, Ciel could still call him — he would if absolutely pushed to it. There was nothing to fear, so why was he shaking?

Vanel hummed in contemplation. A wicked grin slowly sailed on his lips, but when he started to move forward, the muted screams from the outside reached them through the windows.

Immediately, a staggering, liberating relief filled Ciel, and he returned to his position on the floor, pressing his cheek against the carpet calmly.

Sebastian was here. Vanel was already trembling again. And Ciel had all time he needed to chase the remains of terror and start controlling himself.

The screams went silent on the street but soon restarted again, this time from within the house. Vanel whimpered and Ciel bared his teeth in a satisfied albeit pained grimace, regretting that he was unable to see his face.

When slow footsteps began to echo down the corridor, they were music to his ears. He waited, not moving, almost shivering with both anticipation and relief.

Finally, the door opened, and Ciel closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have come to collect my Master.” Sebastian sounded perfectly neutral, and Ciel latched onto this calmness, trying to absorb it.

He could hear Vanel snort in disbelief.

“I’m surprised. Here I was wondering what kind of monstrous man would appear, and it’s just a Romeo in a tailcoat?”

Romeo? Oh, that was priceless. Ciel would have laughed if he didn’t want to preserve his dangerously waning strength.

“Who are you?” Vanel asked suspiciously. “You aren’t just any butler, am I right?”

All mirth disappeared, replaced by an urge to bang his head against the floor.

He just knew what Sebastian’s answer would be.

“No,” Sebastian replied immediately. “I’m one hell of a butler. Just that.”

He had been _waiting_ to say it. Ciel was absolutely sure. Sebastian’s idea of humour was even worse than his concept of loyalty.

“At any rate, I have no intention of going at it with you,” Vanel told him. “See…”

The next second, his fingers tore into Ciel’s hair, yanking him up viciously, and it was so unexpected that Ciel gasped against his will, again. Through his eyelashes, he managed to catch a glimpse of Sebastian. An entirely absurd jab of pleasure rolled through him as he noticed how Sebastian’s face changed and how he nearly reeled back, his eyes losing all traces of amusement.

So he didn’t mind Ciel being hurt at a distance but he disliked seeing him mistreated with his own eyes. What sort of logic was that?   

“Did you bring the item?” Vanel asked harshly.

“Yes,” Sebastian reached for the key, a small, inscrutable half-smile on his face. “Right here.”

There was a sudden loud bang. Sebastian staggered, and the moment Ciel saw blood spurting from his head, everything around him disappeared.  

“Seba…” a half-choked scream got stuck in his throat when a wave of rationality cooled him, forcefully bringing light back into his world.

Sebastian couldn’t die from human bullets. They had already been through this.

Still, shock and horror were too potent. Ciel shuddered as he watched more bullets being fired, Sebastian falling down with an expression of horrified surprise, and a feeling of loss that crashed into him was unbearable. He tried to breathe in, but his lungs refused to cooperate.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How many more traps was he going to fall into today? What was wrong with him?   

 Sebastian was perfectly fine. He was pretending, like he frequently did. There was no danger.

Finally, rationality won, and Ciel schooled his features, staring at the non-corpse grimly. Vanel laughed hysterically, sending a rush of rotten air his way.

“Sorry, Romeo!” he crooned. “Seems like I won this game! The opponent was a master of games, Lord Phantomhive, but I had an ace up my sleeve.” 

Did he mean the most predictable decision to hide men with weapons behind the door? What an astonishing ace. Looked like even the Evil Noblemen had no idea how to play properly.

“It seems I’ve damaged the goods a bit but that’s all right,” Vanel reassured him, dragging him by the hair again. More fool breath and another leery look. “I’m sure you’ll fetch a pretty price even in this condition.”

The coldness of a gun slipped underneath his eye-patch playfully and Ciel stared at Vanel, unimpressed. Were they back to his threats to sell him? The shock value had already been lost. This time, Ciel was prepared for whatever filth escaped Vanel’s mouth, and dealing with it when Sebastian was here was much easier.

Vanel must have misinterpreted his gaze because he puffed up with pride.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured condescendingly, tapping the gun against his chin. “You don’t have to be afraid. By the time you get completely messed up…”

Ciel had no desire to hear the details of whatever scenario Vanel’s sick mind conjured up. Knowing his plans was revolting enough.

“Hey,” he said lowly. Sebastian didn’t even let go of the key to keep up the appearances, the moron. “How long do you intend to play around? How much longer are you planning to pretend to sleep there?”

“Oh well,” Sebastian moved his hand lazily and Vanel spluttered.

“Th—That’s impossible!” he cried out.

“Modern guns really have improved,” Sebastian noted, stretching, and Ciel rolled his eyes in mild irritation. Show-off.

He couldn’t deny it, though, hearing Vanel’s incredulous whimpers was satisfying. Watching Sebastian smoothly kill the rest of his men even more so. It finally affected Vanel enough to make him let go of his hair, and Ciel shook his head in distaste. It felt like his very scalp ached after everything it’d been forced to endure today.

“Oh dear,” Sebastian drawled in mock misery. “My clothes are all full of holes.”

“It’s because you were playing around, you idiot,” Ciel commented. If Sebastian had learned how to accept punishment with dignity, they wouldn’t even be here.   

“Young Master,” Sebastian finally looked at him. “They don’t appear to have treated you very well.”

The underestimation of this grated on Ciel’s nerves and he glared darkly.

“Don’t come any closer!” Vanel warned, pointing the gun back at Ciel’s temple, but Sebastian ignored him this time. His eyes were fixed on Ciel.

“You look like a caterpillar, both disgusting and splendid at once,” he said, a strange, unfamiliar intonation in his words. “It quite fits your small, weak stature.”

Ciel glared harder. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Had Sebastian not had enough yet?

“I-If you get any closer, I’ll shoot him!” Vanel screamed, and Ciel grimaced.

“Hurry up,” he ordered. “His breath stinks.”

Sebastian, infuriatingly, immediately stopped walking.

“If I get any closer, you’ll be killed,” he uttered innocently, and fury returned full force, scorching Ciel’s already battered body.

“You bastard,” he spat. “Are you trying to break the contract?” Because right now, he was barely stopping himself from doing just that, hastily and vindictively.

“By no means,” Sebastian assured him, bowing his head in the show of respect he clearly didn’t feel. “I am your loyal servant, after all.”

He was toying with him. Still. As if what had happened wasn’t enough, as if his betrayal was nothing more but a game.

For him, it probably was.

Rage sizzled, licking his every nerve ending, and Ciel had to take a deep breath to calm down. Vanel’s yells didn’t help him find a balance against the mounting anger.    

Sebastian, as if sensing that Ciel was close to exploding, leaned forward with a smile.

“Young Master,” he murmured, “you know what you have to do. Just say the words.”

Oh, so that was how he was going to play it? Did he want to feel needed so badly that he insisted on Ciel acknowledging it aloud?

Fine. But if he thought this would change anything, he was delusional.

“This is an order!” Ciel growled, finally opening his marked eye. “Save me this instant!” 

“Shut up!” Vanel shrieked. Ciel tensed, sensing that the man was on the breaking point already, and then the gunshot went off, the sound tearing right into Ciel’s ears, deafening him for a moment.

The annoying ringing filled his head right after that, and Ciel slowly turned to send a long, cold look to Vanel.

Sebastian moved quickly, he had to give him that. To catch a bullet like this… Ciel’s mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend with what kind of speed he had to act to accomplish that.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Sebastian wondered curiously. A pause stretched, with Vanel probably being too shocked to say anything. “I shall return it to you,” Sebastian decided at last. There was a dull crunch of a bone snapping, followed by Vanel’s agonized screams. Ciel stared at him in dark satisfaction, not looking away even when Sebastian lifted him off the floor carefully. His cheek pressed against Ciel’s head, and if he were anyone else, Ciel would have taken it for a gesture of affection.

Since it _was_ Sebastian, he knew better.

“The game wasn’t all that fun this time.” He tried to say it neutrally but he could hear genuine bewilderment in his own voice.

Ciel’d had quite high hopes for this game. He’d been looking forward to showing that he could solve everything without Sebastian, but while he’d excelled in finding the rat and luring it into a trap, Sebastian’s efforts to prove him wrong ruined all the pleasure. As the result, Ciel was sore, bleeding, covered with bruises, and with several weeks of nightmares ahead, which would undoubtedly come for him after Vanel’s threats.

No, the game wasn’t fun at all. And he blamed Sebastian for it.

“Hey, you! Wait!” Vanel begged hoarsely. “Come and be my bodyguard!”

Sebastian ignored him, too busy with sitting Ciel down and freeing him from the ropes.

“I’m sorry, Mister Vanel,” he said finally, when Vanel continued to babble, “but I have no interest in such materialistic things.” The final constraint fell down and Sebastian straightened, turning to Vanel. “After all… I am one _hell_ of a butler.”

Ciel sighed in resignation and propped his chin on his hand. Really, to repeat the same non-joke twice in less than two minutes? Sebastian was hopeless. How in the world would he be able to make Undertaker laugh?

“Hell?” Vanel mumbled, his eyes widening. Next second, dark feathers swirled around the room, bringing shadows with them, and Ciel’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Why would Sebastian be angry enough to transform? If anything, he was supposed to be grateful to Vanel for roughing him up. That was why he had allowed his men to kidnap Ciel, wasn’t it?

The shadows multiplied rapidly, climbing up the wall in an unstoppable wave, and soon the room was bathed in the nightfall itself. Ciel watched Vanel unblinkingly, memorizing his terrified expression and the angle under which his hand was bent. He would have to ask Sebastian to do it more slowly next time. It was one thing to break an arm, but to twist it like this? The process had to look interesting.

“Unfortunately for you, this game is over,” Ciel announced coldly. He wanted to go home and rest, but it seemed like Sebastian wasn’t in a hurry. What, did he need an order to kill Vanel, too?

“I will l-leave,” Vanel swore. “I will leave and you’ll never see me again, just… just…”

“Sebastian,” Ciel snapped. “Kill him already.”

“Certainly, my lord,” Sebastian began to approach Vanel, circling him playfully. “But first, a little demonstration, if I may?”

“A demonstration of what?”

“What happens to those who let their filthy hands touch what isn’t theirs.”

“I didn’t touch him!” Vanel yelled. “I swear, I didn’t!”

Sebastian hummed, shortening the distance between them but not closing it entirely.

“And what was that about Earl Phantomhive fetching “a pretty price even in this condition”?” he purred. “Did you perhaps intend to sell my Master to someone?”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Vanel protested desperately. “It was just a joke—”

Once again, Ciel didn’t even notice Sebastian move, but Vanel was suddenly screaming. Curious, Ciel leaned forward, trying to figure out what happened. Vanel’s nose seemed to be cut off entirely, with only some bloody, unrecognizable mass left behind.

“You cannot sell something that doesn’t belong to you,” Sebastian tsked, and even though currently, Ciel’s feelings for him were a mixture of rage, bitterness, and resentment, he still stared, fascinated. Sebastian had lost his human form almost entirely. He resembled a winged shadow, seductive and lethal simultaneously, and the deadly energy around him lured Ciel in, made his fingers ache with the need to touch, to see if this energy would destroy or accept him.   

Because he was watching so intently, he caught a rapid shadowed blur that was accompanied by Vanel’s shriek.

More blood. Something white protruding from Vanel’s other hand — another bone?

“I shall take your fingers one by one,” Sebastian mused, almost dancing around Vanel. “And after that, one body part for one bruise inflicted upon my Master. Would you consider it fair? Mister Vanel?”

“Please!” Vanel begged. “Please let me go, I won’t—”

More screams. More dull, crunching noises. Ciel watched in half-interest, raising his eyebrow questioningly when Sebastian suddenly slithered to him and bowed, presenting ten torn fingers.

“For you, my lord,” he uttered, and Ciel snorted.

“Wonderful,” he said dryly. “What do you want me to do with them?”

“Whatever you want,” Sebastian grinned. Ciel’s lips twitched in a reluctant answering smile and he nodded vaguely, allowing Sebastian to proceed further. However, the smile faded quickly.   

He didn’t want to feel amused. Sebastian’s actions today had proven everything about what he truly felt, again.

No loyalty. No sympathy. No attachment. Nothing.

But seeing him organise such a show for him, acting so possessively, so protectively… it was muddling the thoughts in Ciel’s head. Maybe this was why he could never stick to his promise to never let Sebastian close.     

Vanel’s screams turned into moans, then to weak whimpers. Finally, he fell silent, and Ciel stretched in his seat sleepily. He was both pleased with the performance, whatever caused it, and bored with it. Yes, it was entertaining, but he would have enjoyed it more if his every cell wasn’t protesting against staying awake so fiercely. If Sebastian wasn’t the one responsible for this.

He wanted to go home.

Sebastian didn’t ask anything, for once. He scooped him up and Ciel pressed his head against his shoulder tiredly.

“Where did you get the key?” he murmured. “Did you even give it to Lau, like I ordered, or was it with you all this time?”

“Technically—” Sebastian started but Ciel interrupted him.

“Of course you didn’t give it to anyone. I gave you a flawed order again, didn’t I?”

Sebastian shrugged, and without looking at him, Ciel knew he was smiling.

More games.

“Take me home,” he commanded.

Sebastian dashed forward and Ciel closed his eyes, soothed by the familiar speed and embrace.

He almost fell asleep, but even through slumbering, he was aware of the hurt that was quietly simmering inside.

He had told Sebastian about what loyalty meant to him. He’d told him and Sebastian still ignored him. Allowed him to be taken just to amuse himself by chasing and retrieving him afterward. And Ciel had played right into his hands.

Sebastian wasn’t loyal to him. When would this finally stop surprising him? Amusement and hunger would always be his main drivers, and his possessiveness and desire to be a perfect butler, the moments of closeness they shared — it all meant nothing in comparison.

He would remember it. This time, he wouldn’t forget.

However, Ciel’s determination lasted for about ten minutes, until they got back to the manor.

“Young Master,” Sebastian called, and when Ciel turned to him, he froze. Sebastian was kneeling, looking sombre and reverent. “I apologise profusely,” he said, and Ciel’s heart accelerated, strangely hopeful. “I have erred in a manner unbefitting a Phantomhive butler. How should I repent?”

Ciel swallowed, and this time, his heart began to pound at a dizzying rate.

Maybe… maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were indeed making some progress. If Sebastian regretted—

“I have not made the preparations for tonight’s dinner in the slightest,” Sebastian finished, and all hopes fell crashing down. Ciel blinked, foolishly astounded by yet another mockery. The events of today piled up, and suddenly, he had a horrible urge to cry.

Shocked and disgusted with himself, Ciel nodded curtly and hurried to the mansion, before Finnie and Mey-Rin, who’d come to greet him, lost all respect for him.

He deserved everything that happened to him today. He deserved more than that. To be so weak-minded, so inferior… constantly forgetting about his promises to himself, being a hostage of his own worthless emotions…

He had to eliminate this pathetic behaviour, to crush it until nothing was left, once and for all. And for this, he would have to keep his distance from Sebastian. This time, for real, without any punishments or games.

Just calm, impersonal distance. Like it should have been from the start.

No more mistakes.    

  


End file.
